


Dust to Dust

by Kalla_Moonshado



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Confessions, Crying, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Drug-Induced Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, Feels, Frottage, Heartbreak, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic, Major Injury, Mutual Pining, Non-Graphic Violence, Oral Sex, Talking During Sex, Voice Kink, blurring friendship lines, drug overdose, fel injury, sex between friends, sex with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-15 15:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11234052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalla_Moonshado/pseuds/Kalla_Moonshado
Summary: It started as an accident.  So many things start as accidents when it comes to Khadgar. Experiments gone wrong tend to work in his favor. Many of them gave him ideas for something new to try, or led to more experiments, most of which wound up saving lives.Except… for one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as crack. It went dark.  
> I'm sorry shadowphoenixrider ... I seem to have failed the crack.  
> Not beta'ed. all mistakes are my own.  
> This is in a COMPLETELY different 'verse than Conspiracy of Ravens. Felt the need to make that clear XD

I.

It started as an accident.  So many things start as accidents when it comes to Khadgar. Experiments gone wrong tend to work in his favor. Many of them gave him ideas for something new to try, or led to more experiments, most of which wound up saving lives.

Except… for one.

 

The calculations were across six pages of notes, and not a single one of them would work out the way they were supposed to. The Archmage stared at the pages.  The pages stared back, cold and unblinking, mockingly.

He reached out a hand and crumpled the latest failure, pulled a fresh sheet and started again. A seventh page; a seventh answer.

Khadgar dropped his quill, ignoring the splotches of ink it left as it skittered across the page. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. After the past hour of doing so, it stuck up at odd angles, and he ignored the fact that he’d probably gotten smears of ink in it by now.

He swore colorfully in frustration, stood up and began pacing his study.  Muttering to himself, he crossed to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of wine, hoping the alcohol would steady his frazzled nerves. He drained the glass and poured another, taking it back to his desk and set it down, dropping back into his chair with a sigh.  Crumpling the seventh page, he pulled out an eighth.

“Eighth time’s the charm?” he mused as he started again.

An hour later and another ten pages of calculations (and half a bottle of wine), and he felt like he was getting somewhere. At least he had components narrowed down and at least two of them were easily obtainable. If he could only find a feasible substitute or replacement for the last three, perhaps he could pull it off.

 

Khadgar poked the blob at the bottom of the beaker, sighing as it jiggled. This would never do.  Besides, his fingertip grew spines after a moment. He rather doubted that this would counter a petrification spell. Or a basilisk gaze. Or being caught by cooling lava. Not that the last one would be solved with anything topical or anything short of a Light-borne miracle.  A muscle in his face twitched. The window behind the heavy curtains was lightening, and the sound of a very insistent bird drifted in.

He vaguely wondered if it was a druid there to annoy him and ran his hands through his hair, yelping when his spiny fingertip stabbed the back of his head.

The birdsong ceased as a flutter of wings sent it fleeing the curses that followed it.

 

“Have you slept at all?” Modera’s exasperated voice greeted him as he finally emerged from his study, carrying the blob, afraid to just vanish it.

“Vaguely,” Khadgar muttered back. “Do you know of any use for this?” He held out the beaker. “If you touch it, you grow spines.”

Modera stared at the grey-green… thing. “Um. Maybe the hunter order? A new kind of trap, but organic … or is it specific to human touch?”

Khadgar shrugged. “I suppose I could call on the other races to test if it works on anything other than humans…”

“I … don’t suggest that. The last champion you did something similar to almost gutted you,” Modera reminded him.

“Right. And had the audacity to do it with the same blades that murdered a very good friend of mine.” Khadgar sighed. At least he’d gotten the spines off his finger.

“Is that ink in your hair or did you actually try to dye it?” Modera raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ink. I’m going to take this over to the alchemists and see what they make of it.”

 

He sighed and pushed the idea of torching all of his work out of his mind as the last page of calculations smoldered at the edges.  He batted at the parchment in his hand absently, his mind turning over other ideas.

He had not slept in three days, his mind too active for him to try. He had never known basilisks to be such an issue before arriving on the Broken Isles, but it seemed the ones here were far more potent than their counterparts elsewhere. Perhaps it was fel influence, perhaps it was natural evolution; he could not tell.

He knew better than this, standing and pacing alternately in front of his alchemy apparatus, watching flame and condensation carefully, eyes narrowing as he adjusted the flame with the speed of thought. A soft “clink” drew his attention.

His eyes narrowed further, then widened in shock as the crack in a tube spread, and then he swore, cast multiple shields – over himself, at the walls, and around the worktable – as he ducked. The apparatus didn’t explode, but the ominous hissing as he doused the flame was bad enough.

His robes were a wreck, singed at the edges, and he fled the room to allow the ventilation to take care of the wisps of black caused by whatever he had done.

 

There had to be a better way.  He sipped at a mug of strong coffee as he returned to his calculations, quill blotching the page in his haste.

Was he going about this the wrong way? Was it something obvious that his fatigued mind couldn’t see? Was it in front of him and he was just too blind and overthinking and…

He ran his fingers through his hair again, the quill dragging more ink through the silver strands.

He should sleep, he thought, draining his mug even as the thought drifted through his mind.  But, that’s now how he worked. He would drive himself into the ground first before he gave up a hunt. His single-mindedness on his task had led him through another night, and as the sun rose, brushing his window with its first light and spilling it over his desk, he looked up at it and sighed.

There had to be a better way.

 

He toyed with a vial in his hands, wondering if a combination of enchanting, spellwork and alchemy would be enough of a radical solution.

Introducing Arkhana – or any of the other dusts, really – to any potion was tricky.  He should sleep first. One slip and he could blast the tower apart.

Modera would never let him hear the end of it.

Nor would the rest of Dalaran.

He sighed, and decided to catalog his idea so it would be fresh in writing for the following day; he _had_ to sleep.

He set the vial down on his desk, and eyed his quill. It had seen better days and its point was beginning to dull. There wasn’t enough room to sharpen it further; he’d have to replace it in the morning.

He made note of that at the top of his page.

His handwriting was a bit less pristine than usual in his exhaustion, but still legible.

At least until the quill slid upwards along the page, and his head hit his desk with a muffled _thump_.  The vial of dust burst open, spilling its contents across the page.

It glittered innocently as it stuck to the damp ink, his arm, his hair, and the side of his face when he turned it against the page beneath it.

He came awake all at once, rubbing his nose absently. His face tingled in a not unpleasant way. He pulled himself upright, and shook his head.  The rest of him tingled as he sat up, and he sighed.  It was dark outside, apart from the ominous green haze that filled the sky.  His hand was covered in dry ink, which he was aware that he probably now had on his face as he rubbed his nose again, then sneezed.

He dragged himself to stand, to wash off the ink, strip and fall into his bed. His body could only take so much, after all, no matter what his mind decided. Morning would come too soon as it was.

 

When the first light spilled into the room, he half-opened one eye, groaned, and turned over, shoving his face into his pillow. He refused to acknowledge the light spreading across his bed, the bookcases, the sitting area, the clock on the mantelpiece…

No, he needed to _sleep_ , damn it. The tingling he had attributed to lack of circulation was still there, vaguely, almost like the arcane energy that ran in his veins in tandem with his blood. He turned over again, sighing. Sleep would not come.  He rose to a sitting position, running his hand over his face and sighing. He gave up, and got up. The pants he had slept in were loose enough that he didn’t bother changing them, just slid on a fresh shirt and promised his body a bath when he’d completed those damn calculations that had been pissing him off for the last…

… How long had it been since he’d slept?

Another mug of coffee and a sweet berry strudel were in order.  He moved into his study and to his desk and frowned slightly. He didn’t remember the vial being open when he’d gone to bed, nor the dust that glittered across the desk, showing him where his arm had lain, where his head had been. Light, he wondered if he shouldn’t just go for a glass of wine, and to hell with the early hour.

He reached down to brush the Arkhana dust back into the vial, and his hand tingled on contact with the dust.  He jerked his hand back and looked at it for a moment.

It was… crystal clear, as though he could see the individual lines in the skin, and beyond; the wrap of muscle on bone, the blood vessels twined in the muscle, the nerves, the spark of sensation along them.  Was he going mad? Was he dreaming, perhaps?

He blinked, and shook his head. He shook his hand over the desk, and particles of the dust fell lazily back to its surface.  Giving the strewn dust a _look_ , he instead took himself off to his bathing room.

His reflection didn’t offer much in the way of comfort. There was a black streak on one side that he noted with some amusement was a negative image of the white one he’d had in his youth. His eyes were… brighter. Almost as though they were glowing faintly. He could see the warps in the iris that made the blue what it was, the silver flecks and hints of green that would spread according to his mood. His skin had an almost blue tone to it that he attributed to the stubble that was at least two days old. He ran his hand over his chin, mumbling to himself that he really should have taken better care of himself.

Not that he ever took his own advice.

However, even after the ink had been washed out and a razor had been applied and he patted his skin dry, the very faint blue tone was still there. He looked down at his hands and realized that they, too were ever-so-slightly tinted.  It had to be his imagination.

Then again…

He returned to his study, staring down at the light blue dust that glittered back at his gaze.  He’d heard rumors…

What was he _thinking_?! Enchanting dust could enhance the senses when taken internally, yes, but it was a dangerous, dangerous thing. It wasn’t something to … to…

But it could keep him awake. Aware. Far better than coffee. Or tea. Or heavens forbid, that kaja cola stuff the goblins came up with.  He had to finish this salve, or it could – _would_ mean lives.

He licked lips gone dry with an equally tongue gone dry with nerves. He reached down to pick up the vial and swallowed.  _Am I really stupid enough to go through with this?_

He tipped the vial, just enough to pour a tiny mound of the dust into his left hand, then put the vial back down, ignoring that it just tipped over and fell into the pile of the innocently glittering dust on the desk. His body, or the lives of others?

It wasn’t even a question up for debate.  He closed the index finger and thumb of his right hand around a bit of the dust, regarding it for several seconds, rubbing the fingers together.

_I’m insane. This is utter stupidity. Nothing good will come of this. Damn it, Khadgar wake up before you do something that could destroy you, your life and everything you hold dear._

He closed his eyes, dropped the pinch of dust back into his palm, then lifted the palm to his face, his right hand trembling as he touched it to the side of his nose.

_For Azeroth._

It was like breathing in under a ley pool’s surface, standing in one of the ley lines in Coldarra as it was drawn toward a needle. He could feel the moment the dust touched his blood and it _sang_. The tingling he had felt earlier intensified, and he stumbled back to sit on the desk’s chair. His skin felt cold, as cold as if he had just cast himself into a block of ice. Then it ran hot, hotter than if he’d dived into a pool of lava. His vision swam, and he closed his eyes again, bracing himself against his desk with his hands as his skin felt too tight, then too loose. Intense arousal burned along his nerves before dissipating within the next breath. He bent to put his head between his knees as intense nausea followed.

_You’ve done stupid things in your life, Khadgar, but this has to be the most asinine thing you’ve ever done._

He told the voice in his head – which sounded oddly like Medivh – to shut up. This would pass, and when it did, he could complete his work and never speak or think of this again.

It seemed to be over. The tingling seemed to be the only thing he could feel, as though he stood in a ley line and was drawing from it.  He opened one eye, then the other. His vision was steady. He could see minute cracks in the floor, and his bare feet pulsed oddly, as though he could see the beat of his heart. Perhaps he could.

He lifted his head, slowly, and blinked. The sun had risen enough that it poured through his study window, bathing the desk in light.  The remaining dust glittered there, and he absently scraped it back into its vial.  He had work to do.

He looked over his list of what his intentions were, only vaguely remembering that he had made the list the night (morning?) before. Right. A new quill. He had spares, but wondered if he wouldn’t be better served with a glass pen or a metal-tipped one like he had in his youth.

He opened his desk drawer and dug around in it, finding one of the pens he actually preferred; he’d had it since he apprenticed with Medivh. It fit his hand well, and he’d avoided using it like an idiot, trying to avoid memories.  He pulled the wide-tipped nib from it and replaced it with a hand-writing one, sliding the calligraphy tip back into the pouch.

Right. Memories could be suppressed, especially when he wouldn’t have to replace this for a while, and he’d been through at least three quills in the past month.  He closed the drawer, pulled his list toward him, and eyed it.

If he used Arkhana to “power” the salve, it may have the strength, from small application, to spread through the skin enough to completely free someone from being petrified.  If it contained Arkhana, however, it could not be ingested. That was fine.

He pulled his pages upon pages of calculations to him and went through them. Yes… Yes, this was doable, provided he didn’t blow up his lab again. Or.. whatever had happened. The floor and workbench were still stained from the last mishap.

He pulled a fresh sheet of parchment from his stack and set the calculations around it, and began to work out the formula.

 

His stomach growled, but he ignored it, tapping the vial over the flask with care. The potion in the flask flashed and he backed up a step, then approached again and repeated the action. There was no flare this time, and he tapped again. And again. And again, until the carefully measured amount of dust from the vial in his hand was empty.  He set it down to the side and picked up the flask, carefully swirling its contents. It thickened, slowly.

He sighed. He had done it, at last.

The ruins of two similar flasks lay discarded on another table; one had exploded as he added too much dust, the other had melted when he overheated it.

He corked the flask carefully, tied a label to its neck, then set it in the rack of “untested” but completed works.

His stomach made another insistent reminder that yes, indeed, it was still there, and he’d been ignoring it.  He went back to his study, crossed into his bedroom and eyed the window. Early evening, judging by the light and its angle. His clock had stopped sometime this morning when he neglected to wind it. He was rather certain it wasn’t correct, considering the thin metal of the second-hand was still, and the weights below it were barely clinging to the frame.

It could wait however; he’d reset it and wind it when he returned. For now he stripped and headed to take that long-needed bath, telling his stomach that he would tend to it _after_ a bath.

Clean skin and fresh clothing felt wonderful after… no, he wouldn’t think about how long he was sequestered up here.  He looked at himself in the mirror. The blue tinge was gone from his skin, and he sighed in relief.  He would be exhausted in an hour or two, but that was more than enough time to find dinner and be back up here. His body felt odd without the ever-present tingle of the dust, but it was a bit of a relief to feel his body – and not have oversensitivity to go with it.

He ran his hands through his hair, slipped Atiesh into its harness at his back and left his rooms for the first time in a week.

 

His eyes widened as he saw the ships flare into existence, every one of them turned straight at Dalaran. His heart sank as he realized what it meant.

For a moment, his mind reminded him of what the dreadlord that had masqueraded as Medivh on his first trip back to Karazhan had shown him – Dalaran descending to the ground in flames, all of its people screaming in terror as the city crumbled around them as it descended to crash into the island below.

He barked orders and watched as his champions scrambled and on wings of arcane ravens headed to the Broken Shore.

Half his mind was on those he had sent (praying he didn’t just send them to their deaths, like the first time), and the other was on organizing the city’s defenses. Shields went up as his mages combined their efforts, and he knew he had to organize the others for a concentrated strike. They had one chance, and he was glad he’d sent several of his champions with … surprises for the Legion.

It was a long-shot, sending untested arcane charges, but he had little choice. It wasn’t like he could test them safely. He only prayed they worked.

He was at the Citadel in a blink, and up to his own room in another. He opened a chest, then another, searching for a spellbook as old as he was, if not much, much older. He should have it copied – or copy it himself before the tome began to die with age.  He’d brought it up here to look through ages ago, and never thought he’d actually need to call on the powers of Dalaran herself.

He needed every edge against what was out there.

Khadgar paused as his hand nudged an Apexis crystal from when he’d been on Draenor. He toyed with it for a moment, even as his other hand pushed aside other artifacts, books, scrolls… It wouldn’t be in here. He’d never properly unpacked when he returned, and this chest was full of things he’d collected on Draenor, nothing he’d need now.

The Apexis crystal gave him an idea, however. He was tired, and the spell, even when echoed by other order members, was precise in its incantation. One false slip and…

He didn’t want to think about it.

He dug in another chest, pulling the book from under a pile of scrolls he’d forgotten about… and another vial of Arkhana dust.

Another moment saw the book on his desk, and he was tipping the vial over his hand without even thinking about what he was doing. Or what it would look like if anyone recognized the signs.

He didn’t care. His city. His people. His world was in danger.

The disorientation wasn’t as intense as the first time, but the heightened state was.  Hopefully it was enough. He snatched the book from his desk and teleported to the Hall of the Guardian.

 

The assault on the Broken Shore was going well. The tomb’s seal was broken, and things were starting, finally, to look like the tide was turning at last.

There was just one little problem.

Khadgar hadn’t slept in two weeks.  His face was lined more than usual, his eyes were tired and though he longed, desperately, to just lie down… He couldn’t.

He knew he had to stop at some point, but Arkhana kept him awake and aware and he couldn’t stop. He was needed. There was no time for sleep, no time for anything, anymore. He wouldn’t eat if Maiev didn’t put food under his nose or in his hands. He did at least take the time for hot, soaking baths every night to soothe his tense muscles and actually remembered to shave. Most of the time.

His skin lost the blue sheen over time, and even while it was active, others put it down as a reflection of his eyes; he kept everything else covered. He didn’t feel the tingling anymore. His mind began to wander when it wore off.

He retreated for his nightly bath and looked at the darkness under his eyes. He had to stop this. Real sleep – even if it took a day or two, would erase the damage. But there wasn’t time. Sleep was a luxury he could not afford.  He hated taking the time for bathing, but that was his only rejuvenation effort – and he needed to stay clean and looking like he was fine.

He was frustrated. When he had taken his last dose, the night before, his nose bled. When he returned to his study and picked up the rapidly emptying vial, he stared at it, sighed and poured his dose into his right hand, then added a touch more.

His nose stung, but did not bleed. His awareness returned.  Now, to take care of the other side effect that had cropped up – an irritating itch of arousal that was just enough to be irritating and on the back of his mind.  If he left it be it would get worse – this he found the hard way, trying to ignore it.  Three days of ignoring it found him actually flirting with Illidan.

And _that_ was a mistake. One he wouldn’t repeat.

So now he waited for it to set in… and took care of it.

He had no lovers, so he had little to think on, other than perhaps scenes from books he’d read – and he’d read lots of them.  He wondered what it would be like to have someone else touch him; someone else’s hands run down his chest, over scar and muscle and the layer of pudge that surrounded his midsection. His sword calluses had faded when he stopped carrying a blade and began carrying a staff, though it left him with a few around his palms, and he rather liked the way they felt on his skin.

But oh, to have someone else trace a fingertip along his shaft, to have someone else’s fingers curl around him, stroke their palm against him…

But who would?  He didn’t think anyone would, but then he’d never asked. He’d never had reason, and to reveal this? It was too risky.

He closed his eyes, letting his hands work, one splayed over his chest, the other teasing along his shaft.  It was the only time he took for himself anymore, and he took his time, letting the heat pool in his core and letting it spread.

The Arkhana in his system made it so much easier.  At least he thought it did; before it was never an … issue. Not since he’d left Karazhan anyway.

He sank back against his pillows and sighed, waiting for his heart to slow and for his breathing to even out.

Once he was calm, he dressed and left, heading back to where others would know where to find him at Deliverance Point.  He was stopped before he got two steps out of his rooms.

“Modera…”

“Don’t you ‘Modera’ me. What is going on?” Her eyes were blazing with anger, and he actually stepped back a pace.

“I don’t understand…” Had she heard him? Did she know what he had just done?

She reached up to his face and brushed his upper lip with her thumb. She held it up, her eyes hot on his.

_Oh Light…_

“It’s nothing,” he said softly, reaching up to rub his nose self-consciously.

“Nothing. You haven’t slept in weeks, Khadgar,” Her voice hardened with every word, and she backed him up another pace, against his door. Atiesh dug into his back as he drew away. “You come up here at the same time every night. Obviously you’ve just come from the bath, your hair is still damp. So. Your nose bleeds when you bathe?”

“I had just been reading – and…”

“And the subject matter causes a nosebleed every night?”

_… every night…?_

“No! I just…”

“What is it? Illusion? Hypnotic?” Modera leaned closer to him. “Or did you go straight to Arkhana and poison yourself from there?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Khadgar’s voice shook a little; he cursed again to himself, and wished he could back away or get around her.  He didn’t need this. “I need to get back down to the—“

“It will live without you for a while,” she snarled. “Listen to me. If you’re high on Arkhana, Khadgar – and don’t try to tell me you haven’t been before; you were gone for a week on some project, and when we struck the Tomb, you were glowing with it – it needs to stop. Now.”

“Modera – I seriously don’t know—“

She sighed and took a step back. “Why?” she asked, her voice quiet. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

Khadgar closed his eyes and sighed, reached behind him and opened his door. “In,” he said shortly. “I refuse to talk about it out here.”

Once the door was closed and the bolt shot home, Modera stared at him as he leaned back against the door, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Talk. Fast.” Modera snapped, glaring at her fellow Council member and technical leader.

“Look, Modera – you know what’s going on out there. I have to be available at any hour, at any given moment. The Legion isn’t going to stop long enough for me to sleep. Without the… enhancement… I cannot be ready to jump in at any time.” Though Khadgar feared meeting her eyes, he still looked up. “Please understand this.”

“I don’t,” she shot back, her voice clipped. “Any of us could spell you for enough time for you to take better care of yourself.” She ignored it as he flinched when she struck a nerve. “If you don’t want me to drag a healer up here to get that shit out of your system, you will stop.  As it is, you’re going to stay _right here_ tonight – I’ll spell you.  And I’m going to have a talk with Kalec.”

Khadgar opened his mouth to protest, but Modera cut him off. “No, this is not up for debate. Maybe Kalec can knock some damn sense into you.” She nudged him out of the way, unbolted the door and shut it – just shy of slamming it – behind her.

 

Khadgar leaned Atiesh against his wardrobe and dropped back onto his bed without bothering to undress. How was he supposed to sleep now? The Arkhana in his system would keep him awake, alert and aware for at least a day.

Twilight became true night, and he hadn’t moved. His eyes stared unblinkingly at the ceiling, the patterns carved into it, the stonework, the contrasting golds and blues and violets. They seemed to move, to curl on themselves, as though like errant currents in a quiet stream.

He didn’t know how long he’d lain there, until there was a knock on his door – not his study door, but his bedroom door. He didn’t remember leaving the outer door unlocked.

He sighed and sat up, ran a hand over his face and stood up to answer it.

His heart sank. Kalec stood on the other side of the door, staring at him – no, staring _through_ him.

“You don’t look well, old friend,” he said softly, slipping into the room and closing the door.

Khadgar heard the door closing as though he might hear a prison door clang shut.

“Apparently I’ve been better,” he admitted. “I assume, then, Modera has spoken with you?”

Kalec nodded. “She has.”

Khadgar ran his hand through his hair and sighed, then gestured for Kalec to take one of the two armchairs that sat on the other side of the room – even here, in case of sleepless nights, he had a sitting area complete with at least one filled bookcase, and a second on the opposite side of the fire place that stood partially empty – the missing books strewn or stacked on tables or the floor, at the foot of his bed, and on his bedside table.

Kalec took the chair, and Khadgar settled into the one opposite.  There was a long, uncomfortable silence before Kalec spoke.

“What drove you to this, Khadgar?” he asked softly, though there was steel in his tone.

Khadgar shook his head, swallowing uncomfortably.  “Frustration with the lack of time, the need to get things done and now… I … There’s just no time to sleep with all that’s happening.  It… keeps me awake.”

Kalec was quiet for a moment, then leaned forward and tilted Khadgar’s face up so he could look at the mage’s eyes.  “How long?”

“The first time? Months ago. Then again when the Legion attacked Dalaran directly… after that… two weeks ago.”

“So you used it on a project, and then did nothing with it until the attack?” Kalec’s eyes bore into Khadgar’s as he waited for an answer.

Khadgar nodded, blinking his eyes, but not daring to look away from Kalec’s. “And then nothing until I stationed myself on the shores below.”

“And then you’ve been on it for two weeks.”

“Yes,” Khadgar said quietly, his voice hoarse; out of fear or a suddenly dry throat he could not tell.

Kalec released him and leaned back.  “It can be reversed,” he said softly. “I think.”  He shifted in the chair to lean forward, watching Khadgar’s every move.  “How much have you been taking?”

Khadgar shifted uncomfortably. “At first, I.. I don’t know how to really measure it. Enough to barely fill my palm?” He held out his left hand, and Kalec leaned forward to eye the palm, and nodded. “This evening?” He held out his right palm. “There was enough to fill the palm.. and a bit more; I’m afraid I… thought I might…”

“Need more because it was starting to become less effective?” Kalec asked shrewdly.  Khadgar nodded. “I see. Side effects?”

“At first, I guess similar to the flu? Hot and cold flashes, tight skin, loose skin, nausea.” He left it there, too uncomfortable to admit it aroused him.

Kalec wasn’t having that, apparently. “Intense arousal? It is Arkhana you’ve been taking, yes?”

Khadgar flushed, dropped his eyes and nodded.  He missed Kalec’s thoughtful nod, but it didn’t matter when the dragon spoke. “It’s common – nothing to be embarrassed with.  Illusion has a milder effect, though Hypnotic tends to just offer odd hallucinations.  If you’d started on that, you may well have blasted your rooms to pieces, so at least we aren’t dealing with that.”  He paused. “I assume you’ve been taking care of that particular side effect in some way, or else you’d probably have attacked Modera.”

Khadgar looked up, licked his lips nervously, then shrugged.  Truth be told, he didn’t see Modera that way.  Unfortunately, he may well have ‘attacked’ Kalec before Modera. “I have,” he said instead. “I ignored it at first, until I … found myself flirting with Illidan.”

Kalec laughed, softly.  The sound was rich and deep and stirred something deep in Khadgar’s core, something fluttering and warm and… He pushed the thought away, roughly. “Illidan. Oh, my dear friend, I’m sorry to laugh. That must have been priceless.”

“Maeiv thought so.  She rescued me before I did anything truly stupid, told me I looked tired enough to be stupid and sent me home.”  He did not mention what he had done afterwards though. “You said that … this could be dealt with? Reversed?” he pressed softly.

“It can.” Kalec looked Khadgar over again, then stood up to kneel in front of the mage’s chair, looking into his eyes. “Either you have an admirable resistance, or the larger dose hasn’t taken full effect. Your pupils are not as dilated as I expected.”  He glanced down, assessing the Archmage carefully. When his eyes rose, they lingered on his lips for just a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Khadgar blinked. “I.. well…”

“How long ago did you take it?” Kalec asked, cutting him off.

“Just after my bath? A few moments before Modera caught me in the hallway.”

Kalec seemed to be adding time to time. “An hour or two ago then.” He stood up, and turned his back to the Archmage as he took the steps back to his chair.  “I assume, then, you took care of the initial effects?”

Grateful that the dragon-mage’s back was turned, Khadgar cleared his throat. “I did.”

“And the after effects of increasing the dosage?”

“After effects? All of the effects that I’ve had have been mild; even the initial disorientation was very short-lived, even with the increase.”

Kalec turned and perched on the edge of his chair. “Hmm.” He nodded.  “Then, we wait.  The withdrawal will … be disconcerting. Modera will cover for you – she is telling anyone who asks that you’ve overworked and will be out of touch for a few days.”

“A few days?!” Khadgar stood up. “I can’t be away that long!”

Kalec also stood up, crossed the distance between them and put one hand on Khadgar’s shoulder, the other on his chest. “Stop. You _can_ be away that long. And you _will_. I will be staying here with you.”

“You have other—“

“They can and _will_ wait.”

Khadgar sighed, and closed his eyes, bowing his head.  “I’ve… really made a mess of things. Haven’t I.” His tone made it a statement more than a question.

“No, not necessarily. You … just took on more than you should have, and didn’t let us help you.”

 

Kalec eyed the clock in Khadgar’s study, waiting for the mage to come out of his bath. He smiled as he heard soft snippets of song among the splashes that drifted from the closed door, and leaned back in the desk’s chair, a book in his hands.  He wasn’t particularly interested in reading it, but it was something to do. It wasn’t as though he didn’t intimately know arcane matrices and their nuances, after all. As he frowned slightly at the text, wondering why someone would inscribe a rune he knew well in such an odd way, the bathroom door opened.

The robe the Archmage wore clung to him a little from the dampness.  It was very clearly something he lounged in; the faded blue that was once a brilliant sapphire matched Khadgar’s eyes.  Kalec eyed the fabric and its color, and perhaps what it may have once been, appreciatively.  He set the book down on the desk and looked up into the pale blue eyes.  Khadgar looked tired, but not as though the Arkhana had fully worn off yet. It had only been a day, after all.

“Feeling better?” Kalec asked as he stood up. Khadgar nodded, but looked distracted. _Ah,_ Kalec thought. _And it begins._ “Come on, I brought up dinner while you were bathing. I can guarantee you’ll feel even better after that – I have been hearing rumors and reports that you were neglecting to do that while you were down on the Shore as well.”

Khadgar tried and failed to resist rolling his eyes. “I assure you that claim is exaggerated—“

“Because the only time you actually ate anything was when someone put something in your hands and glared at you? Please.” Kalec reached out and took Khadgar’s elbow, leading him out into the sitting room. “I told you, I heard reports to go with those rumors.”

Khadgar sighed. “All right, all right,” he muttered as he let Kalec lead. Perhaps food would do him some good, after all. His head was beginning to feel a little fuzzy, and he could feel a headache pricking at the back of his left eye.

Dinner was a light affair; the lightly roasted vegetables, root and leaf both, accompanied some Pandaren-style chicken smothered in a ginger-mushroom sauce. Light, but flavorful, without anything that could upset the stomach. The sunfruit cider that accompanied it was sweet and tart and a perfect complement, and they lingered in the sitting room with filled glasses in comfortable silence for some time.

Kalec watched Khadgar carefully. None of the signs were showing yet. The silver-haired mage was clearly lost in his thoughts.  He frowned as he could almost read the thoughts in the blue eyes. Primarily – guilt. He leaned forward. “Hey,” he said softly.

Khadgar started, blinking and coming out of his thoughts. “Hm?” he replied.

“Stop it, Khadgar.”

“Stop what?”

“Feeling guilty,” Kalec said without preamble.

Khadgar closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Kalec. I just…”

“You just nothing. You need to stop blaming yourself for everything.”

Khadgar sipped from his glass and sighed. “But this – this is genuinely my fault, mine and no other’s. It was my decision to start it, and now look what’s going on.” He gestured to Kalec. “I should be out at Deliverance Point. You surely have better things to do than to babysit a stupid old man.”

Kalec shook his head, taking a drink from his own glass to buy time. He really wanted to stand up and slap his colleague, but that would do no one any good.  “Khadgar listen to me – you did what you did because you felt you had to.  It wasn’t like you started taking Arkhana for a … a… selfish purpose. You clearly weren’t spending your time in a brothel or in other similar pursuits.  You wanted to focus on something, and knew it would allow you to do so. It gave us all a bit of an edge in taking down those ships and blasting open the Tomb. You’ve been trying to be available every hour of every day and there is nothing about that that is selfish.  You just took it on yourself when you could have – and should have – called on others for help.”

Khadgar shifted uncomfortably. Kalec’s words cut very close to the truth and he didn’t like it. “Perhaps not, but still, it got us into this situation,” he muttered.  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his glass dangling from one hand. “Seriously, Kalec… It’s still my own fault – as you said, I could have, and should have, asked for help.”

Kalec sighed, but affectionately this time. “That’s never been your way, Khadgar. We all know this. There is a lot on your shoulders, and trust me when I tell you that while none of us would want to deal with all that you have and that you do now, we would take that burden from you if we could.”

Khadgar closed his eyes, bowing his head. He felt tears prickling the backs of his eyes but refused to shed them. He swallowed the sob that rose into his throat, and found he couldn’t speak. He heard movement, but didn’t move to look up in his curiosity.  He felt his glass taken from numb fingers and a hand brushed his temple. Kalec didn’t say anything, just brushed his hair back, and it was a touch he’d never felt before. Not since…

“Khadgar?” Kalec’s voice was very close, almost next to his ear. Too close. He felt heat rush to his face and his ears, and he willed it to stop.  Another brush of a hand, another rustle of fabric.

Kalec had knelt in front of him, and reached out a hand to tilt the mage’s face up to meet his own. Deep sapphire eyes met the silvery pale blue, and there was compassion written there. Understanding. An invitation of unspoken comfort. _Don’t look at me like that… don’t get any closer… please by the Light don’t touch me like that…_ The silvery eyes widened slightly as panic began to set in.

He didn’t realize Kalec’s lips were against his until the rest of his body reacted.

Khadgar pulled back from the kiss in shock. His body sent signals that it would be more than welcome for more to happen, but his brain – what was left of his rational thought, anyway – railed against it. “Kalec,” he whispered in a strangled breath. “What are you doing?” His body was going cold now, and it was as though he had just taken a dose of Arkhana for the first time -  only worse. More intense.

“Offering,” Kalec said carefully, his voice low. “Just offering a distraction from what’s going to start happening to you soon. You would have dosed by now, yes?” Khadgar nodded, swallowing again. “The effects of withdrawal are similar to that first time you took it, and will be worse. A thousand times worse, considering you were taking full doses for two weeks.”

Khadgar felt Kalec take his hand and lead him to his feet. He followed, numbly, his mind shutting down. What was he _doing_? He took the steps through the study.  He heard his bedroom door close. He felt Kalec’s hand working the knot in the sash he wore. _Stop… stop this…_

He felt Kalec’s lips on his, and he reacted – or his body did – returning the kiss heatedly. He felt his own hands lifting to Kalec’s chest, then his shoulders, and though he intended to push the dragon-mage away, he felt his hands pushing the vest the other man wore off. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, and wondered if Kalec could hear it.

The sash fell away and his robe slipped open a fraction. Khadgar’s hands were tugging at Kalec’s shirt, tugging it from where it was tucked into his pants. _What am I_ doing?! _Why am I…?_ He felt hands against his chest, and Kalec moved to touch feather-light kisses along Khadgar’s jaw.  Again, Khadgar tried to push Kalec away, but only found his hands unlacing the loose shirt. His mind felt fogged.  Heat rushed along his body where it had been cold heartbeats before.

_Oh no… no no.. no no no…_

If Kalec realized Khadgar’s body was acting of its own accord, he didn’t acknowledge it. He made no further move to free the Archmage of his robe, just let his hands slide along the torso beneath it once he was free of his shirt. One hand slid to help Khadgar with his belt when the hands faltered. The belt fell to the floor. Boots followed.

Kalec took the steps forward to back Khadgar against the bed, soft kisses and gentle caresses punctuating every step. Khadgar’s body, meanwhile, drowned the panic in his head, hands working on the closure of Kalec’s pants as the backs of his knees touched the bed frame. His arousal was beyond obvious despite everything his mind tried to shut it – and what was happening – down. He tried to speak, but his throat was tight and he couldn’t force words out. A mental touch was out of the question, not with the way…

Not with the way his mind shut down entirely at the brush of fingertips between his thighs. Khadgar made a strained noise as he arched into the touch, unable to stop his reaction. Kalec pulled back long enough to free himself of his pants and undershorts, though offered no further touch than what he already did. The more he touched, the more Khadgar reacted.

A thought occurred to the sapphire-haired mage and he drew back from kissing Khadgar’s neck to murmur softly, “You… you’re…. you’re a virgin.” His words were not a question, though Khadgar nodded in answer. He half expected Kalec to back away, and almost – almost sighed in relief when he did.

It was only long enough to slide the robe from Khadgar’s shoulders, letting it pool on the floor.

The touch returned, feather light, and this time against his chest, as Kalec gently started lowering Khadgar back onto the bed.

Khadgar was shaking now, out of nerves, fear, withdrawal reaction or anticipation, even he couldn’t tell.  Kalec nudged him to settle against his pillows, then stretched out to his side, one hand never leaving Khadgar’s skin, trailing gentle fingertips along his chest and stomach.

“Shh.. it’s okay. I swear I won’t hurt you.”

Khadgar could only nod, warring with his terror and panic and his body’s desires. The touch was oddly soothing, and though his body demanded something more, he tried to let his mind win the argument.

When Kalec’s hand drifted down along his abdomen, it lost.

Khadgar arched, still shivering from the unnatural heat and the touches on his skin that were like ice.  He knew what was next and willed his body to stop. He tried to will Kalec to lift his hand away. He willed – and nothing happened.

The heat began to fade into a secondary sensation as arousal replaced it. What was left of Khadgar’s shredded thoughts battered against reaction like a caged bird – and he almost chuckled at the image. How like his own mind to present him with the image of a raven caged and fluttering uselessly. He briefly wondered if that’s how Medivh had felt, so many years ago before he had put a blade through his master’s heart, setting the raven free.

But there was no one here to set him free.  He was trapped, and it was a trap he willingly walked into and closed and locked around himself.

Kalec’s touch lingered against one hip and Khadgar arched into it.  Of all the time he had spent wondering just what another’s touch would feel like, he had never imagined _this_. There were no calluses on Kalec’s hands; just the barest illusion of what might have been scales. Icy scales. Arcane scales.

Kalec’s forehead was against Khadgar’s and there were whispered words, soothing words, but the Archmage didn’t hear them, his mind still fogged with his body’s reaction and the arousal that was now so piercing that it was painful.

Feebly, Khadgar raised his hands again from where they had fallen to his sides, and pressed them against Kalec’s chest. As though of their own accord, they betrayed him again, sliding around the other man and pulling him closer.

Their lips met again, and Khadgar’s hands were pulling Kalec over him, heedless of his mind screaming against it. If he could only force words… if he could only stop this for just a moment – long enough for his mind to gain enough over the situation to stop it and explain that this wasn’t him – this wasn’t him and it wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ this, but..

But _what_?

Even that thought slid away as Kalec’s thigh came into contact with his cock, and he arched into it with a sharp cry.  He only dimly registered that he wasn’t the only one aroused as he rocked into the firm muscle helplessly, his nails biting into the dragon-mage’s back as his body sought blessed relief from the pain.

Kalec had frozen, rebalancing himself on feeling the reaction, and leaned down to murmur more soothing words, words that only barely penetrated the fog.  “Shh.. It’s all right. I have you, Khadgar.” He shifted to lean his thigh closer, flexing the muscle to add to the friction. “Just let go. I have you.”

Gentle lips kissed away the tears that fell. Arms held his trembling body, and Khadgar was lost to the pinpointed sensations. He barely registered that he was clinging to Kalec as he half-sobbed in relief as the contact produced some kind of focus to the haze.

The words continued as a low murmur. The gentle kisses continued. The brush of fingertips on his heated skin as they brushed hair from his forehead. But the entirety of Khadgar’s world lay in the blessed friction between them, and the heat in his core as it began to spark. He was close. Closer. Too close.

The tiny, desperate noises Khadgar was making as he chased release prompted Kalec to cast wards, and fast. The last thing he wanted was for someone to walk into this, intending to come to Khadgar’s rescue; the poor man was vulnerable enough as it was.

It was barely soon enough.  Kalec’s hand was still raised as Khadgar arched sharply, a broken, wordless cry piercing the almost-silence.  The sudden flare of blue-violet light that chased the heat against his thigh shocked him almost into jumping back, despite the tightness of the arms around him. Instead he pulled Khadgar closer, murmuring softly. “I have you. It’s all right, Khadgar. I have you.  I have you.”

Khadgar’s trembling didn’t abate, but grew worse as he buried his face against Kalec’s shoulder and cried. Kalec sighed. He knew this was only the beginning, the evidence of which was already twitching against his damp thigh.  Non-mages on Arkhana he had dealt with… but a mage of Khadgar’s level? Never… and he knew it was going to be a long night.

Khadgar had hoped that once his body had found release that his mind would be freed – and almost screamed when he realized it wasn’t. It was still locked in a hazy fog of unknown, and he knew he was crying and he hated every fiber of himself for it. He was clinging to the only anchor he had, and wondered if he had the strength to push that anchor away.  He should be dealing with this on his own, he shouldn’t have let Kalec touch him. He shouldn’t.. he c _ouldn’t_ …

He bit his lips as he stifled the sobs, but he couldn’t stop the tears… and he couldn’t stop his hips from reacting, again. _Damn it all, what was I thinking? I_ wasn’t _thinking and now.. and … oh Light what is he doing now? He_ can’t _possibly mean to…_

Kalec’s hands were on him again, soothing touches that led over his hips and rear, at least until he drew away enough to nudge Khadgar’s legs apart.  Icy fingertips brushed against sensitive muscle and skin that had never been touched at all.

 _Oh Light.. don’t.. don’t do this…_ Khadgar’s mind screamed, but it was as ineffectual as the raven slamming its wings against the cage that imprisoned it. His body continued to betray him by arching into the touch instead of away. Muscle parted under those questing touches, and no amount of struggling could force it to do otherwise.  He finally resorted to the only thing left to him – and fled entirely.  The caged raven curled into a ball of trembling feathers as he tucked his head under a wing… and ignored. Everything.

He couldn’t stop the sensations. He couldn’t stop his body’s reactions, but he _could_ retreat into his own mind and stay there until he was free.

Khadgar knew that Kalec was only trying to help, and it was the only thing that kept him from lashing out with every weapon he had.  Not that he expected any of them to do anything at all, as trapped as the dust-turned-drug had him – even when it was gone from his blood.

He had only himself to blame.

Kalec took the blankness that suddenly settled in Khadgar’s eyes for mindless arousal, and set out to soothe it.  Even as he positioned himself with care and slid his cock past the muscle that had given way to his questing fingertips, well lubricated with a warming oil he had conjured, he was careful.  Every thrust was slow and measured. Every touch was meant to soothe.

And Khadgar’s body reacted, arching into the touches, his voice stolen by his mental retreat; wordless gasps or hisses, groans or grunts, moans and sighs that spilled from bite- and kiss-bruised lips.

Kalec had known it would be over quickly; no virgin male he had ever encountered lasted more than a few moments. He kept his own desires in check as he worked; the ebb and flow of Arkhana-induced arousal was unforgiving, and he refused to give into his own body’s needs until Khadgar finally collapsed in utter exhaustion.

It was long moments after he had withdrawn and was holding the Archmage close against him, still trembling from exertion and something more that he realized exactly what had happened.

Khadgar’s eyes flared blue as awareness returned, and the caged raven burst free from its bonds as the fog finally, _finally_ fell away, his body sated, the dust-haze gone from his mind. Arms and legs once again his own, Khadgar pressed his hands against Kalec’s chest and _shoved_ , backing away from the other man with such intensity that he slammed into the wall and curled in on himself, realizing he couldn’t get past Kalec, and if he could, there was nowhere to run _to_.

The terrified wail that he uttered was not what Kalec had expected, and realization crashed down on him and nearly suffocated him as he stared in shock at Khadgar’s form. _Oh Light… what… what have I_ done _?_

Decades fell away as Khadgar turned to face the wall, arms around himself as he shook with reaction. He wanted – _needed_ – to lash out, but he didn’t. If he hadn’t… if he’d just _thought_ before he’d…

“Khadgar…?” Kalec’s voice was soft, shocked and laced with uncertainty.  Of all the reactions he expected – this was not one. Half of him wanted to take the wards down and run before he found himself incinerated.

Kalec was anything but  a coward, however. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out a hand, hesitantly. Words rose, and then died before they could be spoken. What could he say? “I’m sorry, I had no idea you didn’t want this.”? “I regret what I had to do, but I can’t regret doing it.”? “If you want to kill me, go ahead, I deserve it.”?

Finally, Kalec settled on, “Khadgar… talk to me. Please.”

Khadgar’s head turned a fraction, and one pale blue eye – still wide and silver with distress – looked at him. There was no hatred in it – just fear, betrayal, and worst of all, distrust. Kalec met that eye – and all it said – without looking away. He could feel the guilt in his own. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Kalec finally dropped his hand and closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

The words hung in the silence for several moments, punctuated by Khadgar’s sharp breathing and Kalec’s even, measured breaths.

“You’re sorry.” Khadgar’s voice was a rasped whisper, a reminder of the screams he had uttered over the last hour.

“I don’t know what else to say,” Kalec began.

“It doesn’t matter,” Khadgar cut him off, his voice defeated now. “It was my own fault to begin with.” He turned back to the wall, so Kalec had trouble hearing his next words. “I know you were only doing what you had to.”

“But… that’s the thing, Khadgar.  I _didn’t_ have to go that far.” Kalec opened his eyes and looked at the ball of limbs that was Khadgar. “If I… I didn’t _realize_.. I had… If I’d known…”

The wall glowing blue was Kalec’s only warning before the storm finally seemed to break, and Khadgar finally lashed out; an uncontrolled blast of undirected arcane from an outstretched hand as the Archmage turned to face Kalec.

Kalec reached out both his hands and tried to absorb the attack, but found himself thrown back and into the wall next to the door.  He did not attack back, nor did he do anything more to stop the second one that followed. Or the third. Or the fourth, each weaker than the last.

Kalec didn’t move until the barrage stopped. He slowly lowered his hands, eyes calm as he watched Khadgar move.

Khadgar had moved into a defensive crouch in the middle of the bed, one hand outstretched, light still flickering feebly around it.  His eyes glowed blue and his breathing was unsteady.  Sweat glistened on his forehead and dripped down the side of his face.

Kalec sighed. The withdrawal was still in action, and if he was right, this was going to get very unpleasant in about three seconds.

As if on cue, Khadgar blanched, the color draining from his face, and he somehow found the strength to flee the room.

Kalec winced as he heard the retching through the open door and he sighed again.  He stepped into the study and waited until the worst of it had subsided to be sure that the Archmage was at least still breathing, then moved to change Khadgar’s bedding.  He moved to the bathing room door, marveling at how Khadgar had managed to get through the cluttered study so easily, and waited just outside.

“Khadgar?”

A pained grunt was his only answer.

“Are you all right or are you dying in there?” Another grunt, this one holding a bare hint of amusement.

Kalec breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps their friendship was still repairable. The sound of running water and soft splashes was reassuring.

Khadgar appeared in the doorway a moment later, his color still far too pale for Kalec’s liking. “Come on,” Kalec murmured softly, reaching out to take the other mage’s elbow. “You need to be lying down, I think.”

Khadgar stopped at the doorway to the bedroom, unwilling to go through the door. Kalec winced. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “I swear to you I… I won’t…” He suddenly found himself with his arms full of Archmage. “K-Khadgar?”

His skin was like fire, though he was shivering again.  The waves were repeating – weaker now, but still repeating. Khadgar seemed to think that Kalec was the only thing that could keep him from… anything. “Don’t go,” he pleaded softly, his voice hoarse from the constant abuse his throat had been through.

With a soft snort, Kalec picked Khadgar up and put him in bed. “I won’t. Are you lucid enough to talk?” Khadgar nodded. “Good. Because we need to.” He flicked his wrist and pulled a wrap-robe around himself, similar to the one that still lay on the floor at the foot of the bed.  He reached down and retrieved it and its silver sash and laid both at the end of the bed.

Kalec moved to pull one of the chairs closer to the bed, but stopped when Khadgar spoke. “Come sit with me?” he asked, his voice sounding almost absurdly childlike.  Abandoning the chair, Kalec moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “You wanted to talk…”

Kalec sighed. “I do. Khadgar I’m … There are no words to tell you how deeply sorry I am for what happened. I _never_ should have done what I did.”

“What do you mean? What way did I have to tell you that … that I didn’t…”

“I ignored anything other than what your _body_ told me. Any dust withdrawal includes a … kind of mindless aroused state. I took your signs for that, and it was only after that I realized I’d … I’d…”

“Done what you had to do.” Khadgar shifted closer, close enough to lay his head on Kalec’s thigh. “I … I was afraid. You… you knew that I was … I was a…”

“Virgin.” Kalec’s voice was flat. “And I destroyed that. Against your own will.”

Khadgar was quiet for several long moments. “It was my own fault, Kalec. Not yours. I’m sorry I attacked you.”

“Stop.” Kalec reached down and gently turned Khadgar’s head so he could look the other mage in the eyes. “I don’t care what you’ve heard. I don’t care what you _think_ , Khadgar. I took advantage of a situation, and yes, I was doing it to help you through what the dust-withdrawal was doing to you, but _I didn’t have to go that far._ There was, is, never will be an excuse for … for…” Kalec shook his head.

“Fucking me?” Khadgar suggested.

Kalec sighed, explosively. “There were other options.”

“Easy ones?”

“Better ones.”

“Easy ones?” Khadgar persisted.

“I have hands. I have been told that my tongue is rather talented. I had other options than what I did to you. I let my own desires cloud my judgement.” Kalec’s voice was still flat. He felt the heat rise to Khadgar’s cheek against his thigh before he saw the blush.

“You… Your desires?” Kalec closed his eyes against Khadgar’s almost innocent words. They stung, and stung hard.

“My desires. My incredibly selfish desires,” Kalec answered. “You’re a very dear friend, Khadgar. I would not trade that friendship for all of Azeroth.” He opened his eyes again and looked down, absently running his hand through the silver hair. “I wish I could tell you that I loved you after all that’s just happened… because I do care very much for you, but that’s not… I mean…”

The look in Khadgar’s eyes was unreadable. “Did … you expect me to expect you to?”

Kalec blinked in surprise. “Well, I’m not sure how you humans work, but…”

Khadgar laughed softly. “Kalec, friends can be just as intimate as lovers sometimes.  I’ve seen it happen and not result in a love-pairing.”

“And your virginity should have gone to a love – not to me. Not with what… Not in the haze of Arkhana withdrawal.”

They were quiet for a moment.  Khadgar suddenly kicked off the blankets.  “Kalec…” His voice was half warning, half pleading.

Kalec looked down again, coming out of his own thoughts. Khadgar’s skin was flushed a deepening pink. He bit his lip.

“You’re still lucid. I can leave now and let you take care of –“

“ _No!_ ” Khadgar lifted himself into a sitting position. “Please don’t leave me alone with … with _that_.” Kalec almost pulled away. “Please. I’m … I’m not afraid, this time. And this time… I want to _know_ what… what’s … what it’s like. I want to be here for it. Not like I was earlier – trapped and unable to stop you.”

Kalec stared at him. “Trapped? Unable to _stop me_?” He started to get up. “Khadgar I all but _raped you_ and you … you can’t be thinking clearly. I’ve broken every trust that I… I shouldn’t be here… I can send for a healer and—“

“Kalecgos.” The single word stopped Kalec cold. He looked back at Khadgar and saw the intelligence, and the bright _soul_ that embodied the mage in his blue eyes. “Help me keep my mind this time,” Khadgar whispered. “Don’t … don’t fuck me. Override the memories of flesh and bone and love me instead.”  As soon as the words were out of his mouth he winced. “Oh that sounded so horrible and cliché and…” He looked up. “But seriously Kalec, you understand what I mean, don’t you?”

Kalec was still for a long time, holding Khadgar’s eyes with his own sapphire depths. Finally he nodded. “I would be a pretty shitty friend if I didn’t make up for my earlier actions.  I broke your trust, Khadgar. And if this is what you want, your wish is my command.”

“I trusted you, Kalec. I was just.. I was afraid. I didn’t want … I didn’t want you to touch me because I was … mindless. My body _wanted_ and I fought it. It’s going to happen anyway, so this time… I’ll just embrace it. Let it enhance but not override.”  Khadgar shifted uncomfortably and Kalec glanced down. The flush had faded a little, but it was obvious that the arousal had started; Khadgar was already hardening, though it was obvious his mind wasn’t on sex. “Please, Kalec.”

Kalec nodded. “Then _we_ do this the right way.” He reached out a hand and dimmed the room’s lighting. He leaned forward and touched his lips to Khadgar’s, reveling in the freshly applied mint and … cinnamon? Cinnamon. That was new.

Khadgar returned the kiss, softly, and when he drew back, he murmured, “Don’t let me give in to it. Help me keep my mind. That’s… that’s all I ask.”

“I will do my best. I swear it on my flight’s blood, Khadgar.”  He brushed his lips against Khadgar’s again. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Khadgar looked confused, but nodded. Kalec left the room.

By the time Kalec returned, Khadgar was laying down again, eyes closed, his hands at his sides, the blankets pushed to the foot of the bed. His hips rocked against empty air and his breathing was tightly controlled.  Kalec set something down on the bedside table, then touched Khadgar’s chest.

Khadgar’s eyes opened, and they were darkened with arousal, but it was clear that he was still in control of his mind. He tilted his head at Kalec in confusion.

“Lift your hips,” Kalec said softly. Khadgar obeyed. Kalec spread a towel beneath him.

“What are you doing?” Khadgar asked, curiously. It occurred to him that the words were an echo of a similar question asked in panic hours ago.

“I told you. This time _we_ are going to do this the right way. Things might get a little messy. Worse than they did before anyway.” Kalec set another towel down beside the jar on the bedside table.

Khadgar’s eyes flickered to the jar. “Wha?”

“Better than conjured I assure you. It works as massage cream and a warming lubricant. Not allergic to Goldclover are you? Tiger Lily? Frost Lotus?” Khadgar shook his head. “Good.” Kalec set one knee on the bed, his other foot still on the floor as he leaned to kiss Khadgar again.

This time, Kalec could feel the difference. There was hesitation. A little fear of the unknown. Uncertainty. A hand that reached up to brush the skin of his cheek as if asking permission to do what they were doing. His own hand answered in kind, and Khadgar tilted his head, lips parting in invitation. An invitation that Kalec took, allowing Khadgar to explore him with his tongue, letting him sate curiosity before he himself sought the same.

Khadgar made a small noise of impatience; Kalec reached down his hand to soothe it. He knew that this time, Khadgar was in control of his mind, and that arousal could and _would_ wait. He broke the kiss when he needed to breathe – if he was out of breath, surely Khadgar was. A look passed between them as they caught their breath. Kalec noted with relief that Khadgar’s eyes were calm, if a little darker than usual, pupils larger than usual.

Several moments passed in silence, only punctuated with soft, questing kisses and frustrated whines that crossed to growls of annoyance. Kalec gently took Khadgar’s wrist and tugged at his hand a little, pressing the hand over his heart. “Touch me,” he invited softly. “Explore. Perhaps it will help.”

Khadgar’s hand trembled for a few seconds, then slowly did move, tracing a line over the half-elven mage’s chest, finding scars that seemed out of place. His eyes were questioning as he traced over one across his left pectoral.

“A gift from an age ago,” Kalec answered the unspoken question. “I was young and stupid, and charged in where I should have waited. Or stayed back and thrown magic, not myself.”  Khadgar’s fingers found a set of claw marks, oddly similar to a set he himself carried.  “A chromatic dragon,” Kalec responded again. “Poisoned claws; or else there would be no scars. Not like that.”

“That’s why they feel like demon’s claws, then,” Khadgar mused. His voice shook a little, but not from fear this time.  He turned a little and moved Kalec’s hand to his stomach, where there was a set of three claw marks that dragged from his breastbone down nearly to his abdomen.  “Felhunter,” he said softly. “Damn near had me.”

“The magic-eaters?” Kalec asked softly, running his fingers over the scar. Khadgar nodded. “How?”

“By then I was skilled with blade as well as magic. It expected magic. I fed it my sword instead. Didn’t seem to go down as well as magic would have.” There was much more to the story than what Khadgar offered in his light-hearted way. Kalec didn’t press.

“With you, it’s always safest to expect the unexpected, my friend,” Kalec said instead, his voice warm.

“I suppose it is,” Khadgar mused softly.  Before he could descend into melancholy, Kalec leaned down to kiss him again, silencing further words. He moved from lips to jaw to throat, each one soft and tentative. Khadgar had frozen again, tensing as the kisses trailed down his throat, but he lifted his chin, the motion speaking more than words.

Kalec didn’t take the trust for granted, sucking softly at the pulse that was speeding up under his tongue. There would be a bruise there for a few hours, longer if he wasn’t careful. “Tell me something,” he murmured against Khadgar’s skin. “Has… Has anyone but you… I mean. Was I the first, other than yourself, to touch you – at all?”

“Like that? Yes,” Khadgar murmured, his voice felt more than heard. “I had.. I have been kissed, before now. Held. Pr-promised. Promised so much…”

Confessions could be elaborated on later, Kalec decided, and stopped the train of thought. “Will you allow me to touch you again?” he asked softly, nipping at Khadgar’s earlobe.

The question seemed to take the Archmage aback. “I… Yes, yes of course,” he breathed.

Kalec’s hand slid lower, below the scar. It moved when Khadgar’s hips lifted into the touch, as though to keep his body from getting what _it_ wanted. Instead of a frustrated noise, Kalec was a little surprised to hear a sigh of relief.  He nuzzled Khadgar’s neck and pressed a soft kiss to the pulse there.  He slid his arm around Khadgar’s shoulders and pulled him close against him, his hand trailing over the other man’s hip, exploring the skin there.

Khadgar’s hand brushed along Kalec’s stomach, curiously, and he could feel the blush rising to his cheeks even as he did so.  Hesitantly, he spoke. “Kalec,” he murmured. “Can… can I…?” His tone was curious without being pleading.

“Of course,” Kalec murmured, his hand tracing a nonsense pattern against the skin of Khadgar’s hip, pausing his own explorations.

Khadgar pulled away a little so he could see what he was doing, unknowing that Kalec was smiling at the shy blush across his face. His fingers brushed against Kalec’s hip, and then across into sapphire curls that were much softer than he expected. He pulled back at the hitch in Kalec’s breathing, but when no reprimand came, his fingers brushed against Kalec’s shaft near its base. He wondered vaguely if that was how he felt to Kalec; velvety warm skin that was soft compared to the hardness beneath it, pulsing in time with his heart. He hesitated, a little crease appearing on his forehead that Kalec recognized as one of curious concentration, then dragged his fingers, gently, along the shaft.

Kalec made a tiny noise of surprise at the move, and his own hand moved from Khadgar’s hip to trace a similar pattern, as though acting as a delayed mirror. He smiled a little at Khadgar’s surprised gasp.

Emboldened, Khadgar continued to explore, along the shaft, over the head, along the slit, and all the while Kalec mirrored him. Kalec remained mostly calm, while by the end of the exploration, Khadgar was flushed and panting softly. He drew his hand away from Kalec, uncertain of what to do for a heartbeat or two, then let his fingers trail to the opposite hip.

Kalec meanwhile took his exploration to the next step, curling his fingers around Khadgar and resting his palm against the sensitive underside, and slowly, almost lazily, stroking. The soft moan that was his reward was exquisite. It was not desperate this time, but encouraging, and the eyes were not blank as Kalec looked into them, but fully lucid and darkened with arousal – and better, desire. He very clearly _wanted_ this, this time.

After a moment, Khadgar’s hand returned to earlier exploration, this time mirroring Kalec’s actions instead of the other way around. Kalec’s deep sapphire eyes held Khadgar’s as he leaned up to kiss him again.

Khadgar’s hand tightened slightly in reaction, and Kalec gasped, breaking the kiss.

“Did I hurt—“

“No! No.. that’s … no, just… keep that up,” Kalec fumbled, diving back into the kiss. He mirrored Khadgar’s action, and it was the Archmage’s turn to gasp in understanding. Kalec smiled slightly against the kiss before pulling away again, turning his lips’ attention to trailing kisses along Khadgar’s jawline.

Khadgar’s eyes closed and he tilted his head a little, giving Kalec more room to work. His free hand tightened around a handful of the fabric beneath it. He felt heat pooling in his core and his breath caught. His hips lifted into Kalec’s touch. His body was beginning to demand more. “Kalec,” he murmured, his voice as calm as he could convince it to be. His other hand sped up a fraction, as though to encourage the dragon to do the same.

“Getting bad?” Kalec murmured against Khadgar’s throat.  At a nod in reply, his own hand sped up a little. “Talk to me then; do you want me to take the edges off before we see if we want to go further, or do you need – or want – something more?”

He waited as Khadgar took the assessment, keeping his hand steady, his other hand bracing his weight.

The initial answer was an impatient moan that was swiftly suppressed. Another heartbeat or two passed and Khadgar sighed, mumbling something uncharitable toward his age. “Take the edge off,” he murmured softly, sounding slightly frustrated. “Or I won’t get anywhere else.”

Kalec answered the impatience with a brush of lips against Khadgar’s temple. “It’s not your fault,” he murmured. “And don’t start thinking it is – however this came about,” he added firmly.  He lifted his foot and resettled himself on the bed, his hand still moving steadily.  “Now, just let me work, and then we can move on to more… exciting… things.”

Khadgar found himself chuckling at the words. His hand slid away from Kalec to fall against the other mage’s thigh. “At least it won’t take long?” he shot back, his eyes closing as he arched a little into the increasing pace Kalec was setting.

Kalec slid his free arm around Khadgar’s shoulders as he stretched out beside the Archmage. “Well, I could draw it out, but I think it would be best if I did that on a later round, hm? That way impatience won’t have to war with pleasure – and I personally think it would be better.” He adjusted his hand a little; teases became blunt contact, feather touches became insistent pressure.

Khadgar managed another weak chuckle, though his breath caught as Kalec adjusted. He shifted slightly, almost restlessly. Kalec lifted an eyebrow and moved so he could whisper against Khadgar’s ear, acting on a suspicion. “Have I made a discovery about you? You seem to respond to my voice.” Khadgar tensed. Kalec chuckled, and increased his pace slightly. “Well, whoever you take as a lover is hopefully someone who likes talking to you then.”

Khadgar’s breath caught again, and he arched slightly. “Kalec—“ he breathed softly, a warning, or a plea or perhaps just an acknowledgement.

Kalec brushed his lips across Khadgar’s jaw, then nipped softly at the earlobe above it. “That’s it. Lose yourself in it.” His hand sped up a fraction and Khadgar’s arch was more pronounced. “Concentrate,” Kalec breathed. “You’re close… so close,” he murmured, his tone encouraging.

“Kalec… I…” Khadgar’s voice was still hoarse, and it broke before he could complete his thought, unable to fight the tightly winding spiral setting his nerves on fire.

“Don’t think, Khadgar… just feel. Concentrate on my voice. Don’t try to hold back, just let your body lead.” Kalec could feel the pulse against his palm speed up, though he did not move to match it. Some perverse desire made him keep his pace steady, knowing that at this pace it would take a little longer, but not by much. He could feel Khadgar’s rapid breath against his hair, knew that the end would come, and this time, there would not just be relief of release, but pleasure as well. And he wanted it that way.

“Kalec—“ the word was a warning, a plea, and tapered into a moan.

“So close,” Kalec murmured. “Almost there now…” He shifted slightly, not realizing until now just how much it was affecting him as well. His words were truth; he could feel it in the pulsing throb, the tightening of the orbs beneath where his hand reached, the tension in Khadgar’s body. “Oh, _Light_ , you’re so incredibly beautiful when you’re like this,” he heard himself saying, the words falling from him unbidden and unchecked. “And you’re holding back,” he admonished, feeling the tension shift. “Don’t do that… Oh _Light_ don’t do that…”

Desire was welling up, and fast, lacing itself through Kalec’s being as fast as Khadgar’s pulse. He shifted so he had as little contact as possible, fearing that if he didn’t, it would be the first time all over again. “Please,” he whispered. “Khadgar, _please_ … let go… let it _go_ … Come for me.” _Before I lose control of myself. Again_.

“Kalec… Oh… Oh Light… Kalec… I’m going to… I’m—“

Relief flooded through Kalec as he bit Khadgar’s ear again. “Yes…” he hissed, his eyes watching Khadgar’s expression, noting the glow in the Archmage’s eyes. “That’s it… right there. Come, Khadgar, don’t stop.”

Khadgar’s mouth opened as though he would say something more, but it was too late. With a wordless cry he was coming, spilling across his stomach and Kalec’s hand and his hands pulled at the fabric beneath them as he shuddered.

Kalec moaned in sympathy – and his own relief. He did not stop until Khadgar’s shuddering had stopped and he was certain that the Archmage was complete.  With a sigh, he drew his hand away and reached for the towel on the bedside table, carefully cleaning up. As he drew the towel across Khadgar’s stomach, he idly wondered if Khadgar had been so vocal the first time; he couldn’t remember.

He was patient, waiting until Khadgar’s breathing had evened out and the blue eyes opened, still dark with arousal.  “Still with me?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” Khadgar breathed. “I’ve.. that… I wasn’t expecting…” Kalec chuckled and leaned to kiss him.

“And it will only get better, I assure you,” Kalec murmured.

Khadgar blushed. “I didn’t expect… you talking to me like that to…”

“Be your undoing? Oh, trust me,” Kalec chuckled. “I plan to use that to my advantage.”

Khadgar coughed as his blush spread up into his ears and down his chest. “Oh?” he asked softly.

Kalec laughed softly, leaning to brush his lips against Khadgar’s cheek. “With no shame,” he replied. “Especially now that the edge is off you and I can tease and deny you for as long as we can draw this out. If we do this right, you’ll ride out the rest of the waves of this and then actually rest.”

Khadgar sighed softly. “I suppose. But the nausea—“

“Hopefully we can offset that.  Considering your reaction before, I think it was enhanced by… well. You were upset.” Kalec offered. “This time it shouldn’t upset you, and hopefully pleasure will cancel it out.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“We deal with it.”

“We?”

“We,” Kalec said firmly. “I won’t leave you to this alone. I promised you I wouldn’t, and I won’t – whatever happens, _we_ will deal with it.”

Khadgar sighed and reached up to hug Kalec. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I’m… I’m really sorry I dragged you into this.”

Kalec snorted softly, touching his lips to Khadgar’s again. “None of that. I would not be here if I didn’t care for you. You. Not Archmage Khadgar of the Kirin Tor. You, Khadgar, dear friend, fellow mage, and Troublemaker Extraordinaire.”

Khadgar laughed, and Kalec smiled.  “So, dear friend… what do you have in store for me next?” Khadgar asked, amused.

“Oh, I thought perhaps I could start you off simple.” Kalec pulled him closer, pressing his erection against the other mage’s hip. “Like finding a way to arouse you again.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Threw whatever may be canon under the bus.

The Tomb of Sargeras had been breached. The Broken Shore was mostly secure.

They weren’t taking any chances.

The strike force was only slightly smaller than the one that had taken the Broken Shore and set up the outposts that currently watched.  It took little time to surround the Tomb and keep it clear so the teams could get inside.

Once the teams were in place, and the fighting stopped, there was a long moment of ringing silence, and then all of Hell broke loose. It was the first assault all over again.  Khadgar could hear the screams of “Fall back!” echoing over the ridge, and his heart went cold.  The number returning was far smaller than what went over.

His mouth set in a thin line, he started up the path, and found his wrist pulled back. “Are you insane?! Show your face up there and you won’t come back – they’ll target _you_ for what happened to Gul’dan!” Kalec shouted in his ear over the screaming.  Something whistled overhead and both mages looked up. Rather than trying to shield themselves they jumped apart and rolled as they hit the ground. The fel-missile missed, but barely. More ships were appearing even as they looked back up.

Before Kalec could get back to his feet, Khadgar was looking over the ridge. He could see the color drain from his skin from his position, and scrambled to keep the other mage from going further.  He wasn’t the first to get there.

Khadgar found himself pulled back to the ground as Aethas tackled him. “Are you _mad_?”

“I am, actually,” Khadgar muttered, his eyes darkening to a storm-color as he looked back toward the ridge. “Furious. And beyond.” His voice was too-calm, and Aethas backed away. “It’s time to end this. _Now_.”

Before he could get up, Kalec had managed to get to him, and with one hand held him down. “Don’t even think about it, Khadgar. You are one person. One person against…” Kalec turned his head and blanched. “Suicide,” he hissed.

Someone – robed – a priest by the coloration, hit the ground behind them, gutted, his green eyes flickering, his long ears shredded.  The last words he uttered were a prayer to the light before the eyes faded to a dull grey, and the body lay still.  Aethas bit back a curse and reached out to close his eyes. “They’re being slaughtered. Toyed with… Damn them…” He stood up.  “Requesting permission and access to Dalaran’s weapons array,” he said to Khadgar, who widened his eyes.

“Granted.” Aethas vanished in a blink. “Kalec—“

“Not leaving your side, Archmage.”

“They need you up there.”

“ _You_ need me down _here._ ”

Khadgar closed his eyes. “Don’t make me pull rank, Kalec. Please.” His voice was still clipped and tightly reined, though it broke on the last word. They stared at each other.  Another explosion caused them both to duck.

Kalec sighed, explosively.  “What do you want me to do?”

“There’s a small pouch in my bedroom on the table by the fireplace.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not letting you fall into that trap again, not even for this.”

“I’m not _asking_ , Kalec.” Their eyes met. Kalec recoiled from the storm in Khadgar’s eyes.  Biting back whatever it was he was going to say, he teleported away.

Khadgar closed his eyes, and begged the Light for strength.  He slid down the ridge, narrowly avoiding another missile blast. 

Kalec caught back up with him out of sight of everyone else, looking upset as he held out the silk pouch. “Please don’t do this…” he tried again.

“Believe me, I don’t really want to, regardless of how… pleasant… you made the aftermath. I promise I won’t take more than absolutely necessary.” He was digging in the pouch as he spoke, and pulled a vial that glinted different colors in the faint light of another missile.  “Go. Get the others back. Pull everyone back to the ridge. Let the close range fighters taunt them – let the ranged fighters let fly with everything they have. I just need a few moments.”

Kalec hesitated, seized Khadgar’s face in his hands and kissed him.  “Don’t do anything to get yourself killed, or I swear to Malygos’ memory that I won’t let you rest.”  And then he was gone, sprinting away and shouting orders as loud as he could without resorting to using his true form.

Khadgar looked down at his hand, and the vial within.  Calculations floated through his head as he stared at the vial, which was a mixed blend of different dusts and crushed crystal that was a last contingency that he never planned on using. He stared at the vial and swallowed, his eyes closing. He worked the stopper out without looking at it, then lifted the vial to his nose.

The empty vial dropped from his numb fingers and shattered on the stone beneath his feet.  He clung to the rocky outcrop he hid behind as the disorientation took him.  He had no time to do anything but wait for the pain to subside before he pulled Atiesh from his back and teleported himself into the middle of the fray, encircled by a shield of pure blue, hiding the way his skin and eyes glowed.

He ignored the cheers that went up along with the screams of dismay from those who either thought he was a savior – or a fool.

“ _This ends here! Now!_ ”

He wasn’t even sure what he was casting. He let rage direct his power as he blasted a corridor through the demons toward the temple. And a second when they closed in. And a third.

“ _GO!”_ he screamed as the fourth blast went off. He felt, more than saw, the rush.  He continued casting, picking off commanders and lieutenants as the assembled Horde and Alliance forces, screaming battle cries, drove downward.  At least two teams of seasoned champions made it to the gates and vanished within.

While he still had strength, he ran forward with them until he could target nothing but the Legion forces, and slammed Atiesh into the ground, producing a shockwave that knocked them back. The ones that could still move turned toward him and he grinned, a feral look in his stormy eyes.

“Did I make someone mad?” he asked, his voice still carrying. He let them get close, then unleashed another shockwave.  He was starting to see more Azerothians than demons, and he started picking off individuals again.

An explosion rocked the air above them, and he looked up. One of the ships was blasted apart, even as Dalaran targeted a second.

“Go back to the hell you came from,” he snarled, softly as he turned and blasted another demon out of his way. He strode, slowly as though wading through a pool of water, blasting fel creature after fel creature.  They kept coming, but between the combined force of Alliance and Horde, Dalaran’s attacks and his own, they were turning the tide. Within no time, he, Velen, Illidan and Maeiv could join the heroes in the Tomb and they could finish this.

At least, he thought as much. He heard the screams of fear as the Tomb itself shuddered, and he whipped around. The teams that had gone in were retreating, leaving blood trails and at least one collapsed on the way out. “No,” he whispered. Using his heightened senses, he tried to figure out why. The battlefield seemed to go quiet for a moment. Most of the Legion forces were retreating to the base of the temple.

His heart sank. There was a ripple of unrest through the Azerothians.  With an explosion of green light that everyone else turned away from, there was another army pouring from the depths of the Tomb.  He could only stare for a moment.

“Fall back,” he whispered, his voice unwilling to give the call. “Fall back!” he tried again. “ _Fall back! **Fall back**!”_

 _Coward…_ his mind whispered. He ignored it, and stayed where he was. Fury replaced rage, and his hands shook with it.

_It may be simpler to shut a door than to pass through it. But sometimes a step into the unknown is required to break the bonds of fate._

Khadgar turned to the temple and stared at it. _I’m going about this all wrong_ , he suddenly realized. Lost in his thoughts as the dust wore off (how long _had_ this gone on?), he wasn’t aware of his shield flickering, then fading as he stared.  He didn’t seem aware of anything.

His vision blurred. _… to shut a door…_

He shook his head and realized he wasn’t hearing correctly. _…a step into the unknown…_

“Khadgar! _Behind you!_ ” He blinked. That voice was familiar. Deeper, though. As though it was coming from… _…bonds of fate…_

His senses returned with a jolt. He looked down, blinking stupidly at the tip of a felblade of the same type that had claimed Vol’jin’s life slowly sprouting from his ribcage on the left. Missing the heart. Scraping the lung.

His scream was not the only one as the blade twisted and yanked free.  His free hand clamped over the wound, though he could feel blood pouring down his back.  He dropped to his knees, clinging to Atiesh to keep himself upright.  He had to get out of here.

He pulled his hand away from his wound and began casting a teleportation spell, but he could not concentrate enough through the pain. His vision began to go grey, and he was unconscious before he slid sideways.

He never hit the ground. He did not see the dragon’s talons curl around his body or the blast of arcane and ice that Kalecgos spewed at his would-be killer. And others.  He did not hear the shrieks of defiance or the screams of negation at watching him gutted.

The attack was renewed.

Kalecgos curled his foreleg to keep the mage from being buffeted by winds, but he could not stop the blood as it fell like rain as he shot back towards Dalaran.

He was calling for a healer before his feet touched the ground at Krasus’ Landing, transforming and supporting Khadgar’s lifeless form as he continued to shout.  Most of the healers were down on the Shore, keeping the armies alive, though he saw the familiar form of one of the priests – no… no that was the High Priest. Priestess? He didn’t know, or care.

She looked at him, frowned, then took in what he carried, and swore an oath that would have curled his toes if he’d been listening. She pressed her hands to his chest, then realized that most of the blood was coming from his back.  She assessed him quickly, snarled, then said, “Hold him up. I have to close this from both sides or I’ll kill him. Fel weapon?” Kalec nodded. “Damn it. I will do what I can, most of this is going to be up to him… if I can keep him here.”

Kalec wisely said nothing, just let the priestess work. She was shaking when it was over, and she reached up and pulled back one of Khadgar’s eyelids and dropped it at once.  “He’s…” She looked up at Kalec.

“He’s drugged,” she murmured. “He’s drugged out of his mind…”

“I was afraid of that. Is that good or bad?”

“He feels no pain now – now that I’m done.  He will, though.  I don’t know what he took, but it’s … He’ll be out of it for a while.  It may also be what kept the fel from spreading further… whatever is in his system is fighting it.”  She sighed and drew back, her hands covered in blood, which she then dusted down her robe.  She looked down at it, rolled her eyes, and picked up the hem to finish wiping her hands.  “Take him somewhere quiet. Round the clock watch – if you can’t find a place like that, we can take him at First to Your Aid for observation.”

“I will be personally watching him – and I think he’d prefer not to know he was seen by a healer.”

“Yes… he does seem to have a thing against us.” The priestess shook her head. “Stupid man, sometimes. Call me if you need me, Archmage.” She wandered off, looking a little dazed, still cleaning blood from her between her fingers.

Kalec sighed (he seemed to be doing that a lot lately, particularly around Khadgar), and lifted the Archmage.  Instead of causing panic (more than he actually had, as the rumors would start flying very soon that Archmage Khadgar had fallen), he teleported them both straight to Khadgar’s quarters. 

He stripped Khadgar quickly, draping the blood-soaked robes over a chair in the bathing room and drew a bath with one hand, supporting the unconscious Archmage in the other. He was careful to keep the water tepid so he wouldn’t drive Khadgar into shock (further than he already probably was) , and got him cleaned up. The water that drained was alarmingly red, and Kalec decided a second rinse was a good idea.

The wound was scarring already, and the lines of black and green weren’t comforting. Once he had gotten Khadgar dry, he settled him into bed, pulling the blankets and comforter up over him, then sat on the edge of the bed.  “Damn it, Khadgar…” he murmured, brushing damp hair from his face. “I… I understand why you did this, this time, but…” He sighed, closed his eyes, then went to take a bath of his own.

He didn’t expect Khadgar to wake any time soon.

Clean and dressed in a wrap-robe, he resumed his vigil.  The sky outside was turning black, apart from the ever present green hue. Someone pounded on the outer door, and Kalec went to answer it.

“Modera,” he greeted the woman on the other side.  She was streaked with sweat and blood, and Aethas stood just behind her. “Aethas.”

“How is he?” Modera demanded.

“Asleep. The healer said he—“

“He’s drugged isn’t he?” Kalec didn’t answer her. “He is. What did he take?”

“I… I don’t know. He ordered me to buy him time.” Modera gave him a withering look. “Stop. Just…” He sighed. “Come in. Keep your voices down.” Kalec stepped back and allowed them in.

“After I left to get the array up, Modera joined us. We took down all of the ships,” Aethas sighed. “The array is completely drained, and if it doesn’t have time to recharge, we won’t be able to handle a direct assault.”

Modera dropped into a chair. “The Shore is … clear. We took heavy casualties out there, but as much as I hate to say it – knowing he took something to do whatever he did – Khadgar saved all of our asses out there. They rallied when they saw him fall.”

Kalec sighed, and dropped onto the couch. “Of course. So. The rumors?”

“The rumors are everything from ‘he’s fine’ to ‘he’s dead’.  More people believe the latter – especially among the Horde.”

“Vol’jin took a similar wound,” Aethas said quietly, taking the other chair. “And he passed shortly after.” He looked up. “Is there any hope, Kalec?”

Kalec shrugged. “I’m no healer. The High Priest… Priestess? Said that it would be up to him. She knew he was drugged and heavily so.”

“Is there any way to find out what he took?” Modera asked, toying with the hem of her robes.

“No. I … I didn’t pry. He promised me he wouldn’t take more than absolutely necessary, but…” Kalec shrugged again. “Since when has Khadgar said precisely what he means in times like that?”

Aethas shook his head. “In other words, he very likely took the most his body could handle and then some. And we don’t know what he took.”

“It wasn’t Arkhana. At least not … just… Arkhana,” Kalec said slowly. “I just… If he’d…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“If he’d what?” Modera pressed.

“I don’t want to destroy his confidences, Modera. It’s something between him and Medivh, from what I understand.” Both the other mages stared at him. Kalec closed his eyes. “He refused to take on the power of the Guardian, insisting he didn’t want it,” he said flatly. “And neither of you know _anything of this_ is that clear?” At their nods, he went on. “He said that Medivh told him that it wasn’t power that made him a Guardian. It was… well… things like he did out there today.” He shrugged. “I have to be honest… I’m tempted to go to Karazhan and see if I can find one of his imprints to talk to. Perhaps he could talk some sense into Khadgar. I understand they were … close once.”

Aethas frowned. “Medivh… Medivh is dead, Kalec.”

Modera shook her head. “No,” she said slowly, “not according to several accounts I have. He was revived, untainted, and every bit the Guardian he was meant to be… just severely curtailed in his power and limited as to what he can and cannot do, where he can and cannot go.” She looked up at Kalec. “You may be on to something there.”

“I don’t want to leave him,” Kalec said reluctantly. “I mean, for now he’s resting comfortably, but if the lines from that wound spread, we could have serious trouble. Not to mention whatever he took to gain the power he had out there.”

Aethas shrugged. “If the lines spread, we deal with it. Perhaps, if you find Medivh, he’ll have an answer. If not, we find a way to stop the spread.” He looked down at his hands. “Until then, we need to find out what he took, and how much of it is still in him. If he overdosed on anything like Arkhana, and we have to fight that as well as a fel-infection, we’re going to lose him.”

Modera remained quiet, but she sniffled. Kalec looked up and touched her shoulder. “We’ll do all we can. That’s all we can do,” he said softly. She nodded and rubbed at her cheeks.  “Go alert the rest of the Council of … well. What the situation is. Do not mention Medivh. Do not mention his drugging himself. We owe him that much dignity,” Kalec said, a little louder. “He saved countless lives today, and it almost cost him his own.”

Modera and Aethas both nodded and stood up.  Modera paused. “I’ll have someone bring up something to eat; none of us took that kind of time, and… that way you won’t have to leave him.”

“Thank you, Modera,” Kalec replied warmly. “Send up a flask or two of sunfruit cider. Perhaps I can at least get some fluids into him, and the sugars will do him some good.” Modera nodded and composed herself before she and Aethas left.

Kalec bolted the door behind them and returned to Khadgar’s bedroom, sitting down on the bed and watching the Archmage sleep.  “Are you dreaming, Khadgar? If you are, I sincerely hope the dreams are sweet.  You’ve seen enough pain today.”

 

Three days later, Kalec found himself edging along the corridors of Karazhan. His hand, and the blue glow around it, was the only light source as he moved, and he found himself sweating with nerves as whispers around him told of … things… in the corridors, wondering at his presence. He had never visited the tower, and though he landed on an upper balcony to begin his search, he was not prepared for the tower’s eerie whispers, the flashes of … things… at the edges of his vision, or the shiver of cold he occasionally found himself walking through.

He finally found what must have been the Magus’ library; a smaller room attached to the larger library; a twisting corridor leading to it that seemed like it wasn’t real. Then again, he had walked along the ceiling to get here. At least, he thought he did. As he stepped into the room, lights flared around him, and sitting in an armchair, a book casually held in one hand, was the Magus himself.

“Greetings, seeker,” Medivh said quietly. “I assume you come here seeking, as you did not seem interested in what most others have come here for, and you’ve not contributed to the destruction around us.” The book snapped shut, and was placed onto thin air, where a table was called into existence to put it on. “So. Come. Sit. Tell me what it is you’ve come seeking, and who you are.”

A second chair, across from the Magus blinked into existence. Kalec swallowed, dismissed the light in his hand, and stepped forward.  He knew the legend of the sole blue dragon who had come to this place to attempt to reason with Medivh… and his fate.

“My name is Kalec,” he said, taking the steps to the proffered chair. “And I’m here, not for books or trinkets. I’m here for you.” He gingerly settled on the chair, looking up at Medivh.

Medivh was much younger-looking than most of his portrayals had been. Raven black hair, a neat beard, cool green eyes that held no hint of corruption, despite their color. “Indeed?” He leaned forward. “Well then, Kalec… Kalecgos? I assume you are a dragon; your skin and eyes betray you.”

“You are correct,” Kalec confirmed. “Have you heard of me before, or was that a guess?”

“A little of both. I am familiar with some of what happened in Quel’thalas,” Medivh answered coolly. “So. What is it that brings you here for me?”

Kalec took a moment to organize his thoughts. “Khadgar,” he said, finally. Medivh lifted an eyebrow.

“My apprentice? What about him?”

Kalec, remembering Khadgar’s description of the dreadlord who had taken his master’s form, looked up at Medivh, narrowing his eyes a little, trying to see if this was a true imprint, Medivh himself, or another deception. “Word has not reached here of the battles on the Broken Shore, then.”

Medivh leaned forward. “Some. The last time Khadgar had been here, he asked me to join it.” He chuckled. “Told me that Azeroth needed her Guardian. I am no Guardian. But my Young Trust? He… He is one. Heart and soul.” He tilted his head, reminding Kalec of a raven. “Why did he not come with you?”

“He is … unable.”

“Unable.” Medivh frowned.

Kalec looked uncomfortable. He ran a hand through his hair and recounted the events on the Broken Shore – everything he had been present for. “And now, he’s … been asleep for days. We don’t know what he took, but so far he’s managing to keep the … lines… where they are.”

The more Kalec talked, the more upset Medivh seemed to become. “Fool child,” he said, sadly, though there was a fondness to his voice that took Kalec aback. “He wavers on overconfident and foolish, or desperate to earn his place. It was the only thing I could not teach him.” He stood up. “I’m assuming, then, he’s in Dalaran?”

Kalec nodded, also standing, looking a bit confused.

“Then we go. I am assuming that’s why you’re here?”

“I had come for advice, not aware you could leave here, but…”

“As long as I am not… seen, it would be best. Not there. But my Young Trust cannot be brought here, if he is as gravely injured and ill as you say. Thus, I go to him. I assume you aren’t going to let me hit him over the head with something large and blunt?”

Kalec was startled into a laugh. “I’m afraid not. I’ve become a bit protective of him since… well. Since he started taking dusts.”

“You mean to say this was not a one-time occurrence?”

“I’m afraid not. He has insisted on overtaxing himself to exhaustion, or worse. I took to staying with him to keep him from doing anything stupid, but.” Kalec spread his hands. “Khadgar is very strong-willed, and as the leader of the Kirin Tor, I have little choice but to follow his orders.”

Medivh’s eyebrows shot up. “He pulled rank. On you. A member of the Council? As I assume you must be?” Kalec nodded. “Well. It seems he did find his balls after all. Took him long enough.  Well then, the longer we sit – or stand – here, the more he fades. I am afraid I probably do not have the ability to pass his wards – while you do.  Let me gather a few things, and I am assuming you can take us there?”

Kalec nodded again. “Of course. Is there anything I can help with?”

Medivh chuckled. “No, no. Just stay here. I won’t be but a few moments.” He made a gesture, and where the former Guardian stood, a raven now hovered, then shot off through the open door.

Kalec shook his head. A few moments spent with this man told him quite a bit of where Khadgar had gotten his mannerisms, and his fondness of not only his raven form, but of ravens in general.  He smiled. There were things that Medivh had _not_ said that made him wonder about a few things Khadgar had let slip.

Perhaps putting the two together in the same space was a very, very good idea.

 

Meanwhile, Khadgar dreamed.

At first, some were pleasant – days he spent in Karazhan, curled up in the Magus’ study with a book as Medivh worked, or the two of them working on something, or Medivh talking animatedly about something.

Others were dark – staring at the blood on his hands after he watched Medivh die, watching the only way back home wink out of existence, staring through the gloom of a room as he verbally sparred with Gul’dan, screaming as he felt the blade sink into his skin, through muscle and bone and…

He couldn’t wake.

He could weep. And did.

Not that he could feel the tears.

He stared up into Medivh’s eyes, wanting to tell him – so much. Everything he held secret for so long. Watched him speak, eyes alight, animated and excited about a topic. Stared at lips that were entirely too kissable…

He turned to look at his mother as she walked away, leaving him in the care of an ancient mage.

He looked down at his hands, old and frail, then up at Medivh – no Sargeras, and drew his borrowed sword.

He hid, cowering under his bed as a thunderstorm raged outside, eyes glowing in the darkness, terror paralyzing him, until a hand reached out to pull him out and away.

He stared down at an orcish army unwilling to fathom how _many_ there were.

He stared up at Deathwing, fear making his heart race, but standing his ground.

He watched as arcane arced from his hands to a blood elf priestess, her eyes widening before they rolled back and she fell to the ground, blood trickling from her lips.

And he could not wake.

Weeping did not help.

He was once again a raven caged, and this time there was no escape. His life, fragmented and shattered, played out in no proper order, nonsense to his senses, but he could not get away. He could not escape. He could not retreat.

He could not wake.

Green fire drowned his thoughts, burned in his veins.

He was too hot. Too cold. His skin felt tight. His skin slid away from his bone and muscle and he could not keep it against him. He _wanted_ , but could not even fathom what he wanted. He screamed into the black and cold and heat and begged for release.

He could not wake.

The raven raged against the bars of its prison, his sense of self dissolving.

Who was he? What was he?

Nothing. He was nothing.

There was nothing.

Just pain.

Green fire burned his nerves, heated his blood.

And he could not wake.


	3. Chapter 3

Kalec and Medivh landed in the sitting room. Medivh smiled, then chuckled softly. “I see.”

Kalec blinked at him. “What?”

“Was this his idea?”

“What?”

“Moving here. This particular suite.”

“No, actually. He’s been here since he returned from Outland.  This is where he was assigned. Why?”

“Hm. So it’s been forgotten.  This was traditionally the Guardian’s suite.  His décor is… comforting to me.” Medivh smiled, blandly as he took in the colors of the tapestries, the trunks against the walls, the low tables and comfortable seating, nodding in satisfaction.  “I assume he’s in the bedroom?”

Kalec nodded. “I assume you know the way, then?”

“Of course.” Medivh moved towards the study with purpose, then into the bedroom.  He stopped short on the threshold. “Oh,” he breathed, taking in the sight.

Khadgar had not moved. His eyes were closed, his face twisted in pain. His hands lay to his sides over the blankets, pale against the rich crimson. Too pale. Kalec frowned. “I think he’s lost more color,” he said in concern.

Medivh didn’t seem to be listening. He moved straight for the bed, shedding his cloak as he moved, draping it with a long-accustomed ease across the footboard. He took one pale hand in his, sighing softly. “Oh, Khadgar, what _have_ you done…?”

Kalec hovered for a moment, then moved closer.  “Is there anything I can get you, Magus?”

“No, thank you. Don’t stray too far, please, but…” he paused. “Please, let me have a few moments with him… alone?” Medivh did not look up, and Kalec could hear what was unspoken.

“Of course. I will be out in the sitting room.” Without waiting for a reply, Kalec retreated, closing the door softly behind him.

As soon as the door closed, Medivh pulled back the blanket, and ran a finger over the wound-scar, then along the lines that marred the skin. Green and black. So familiar… He pulled the blankets back up, never letting go of Khadgar’s hand.

“I don’t know what you took, my Young Trust… but you must fight this.” He lifted the hand to his lips. “Don’t tell me that I’ve come here only to lose you.” He sighed softly, reaching down to brush a strand of hair from Khadgar’s forehead. “Was this how you felt…? So long ago when I was sleeping? When you stayed by my side and…” He closed his eyes, his throat tightening.

 _Damn it._ He could not stop the tears that spilled down his cheeks, and didn’t bother to try. _I never said a word… never once. I got a second chance… and now.. and now it may be too late._ He lowered Khadgar’s hand back to the blanket but didn’t let go of it.

“My turn, then. You talked to me. Stayed with me. And I will do the same. You have to wake up.” His words fell to a whisper. “You _have_ to wake up…”

 

Kalec paused as he heard the pain evident in the former Guardian’s voice, leaning against the door until his voice broke and he went quiet, then stepped through the study and into the sitting room, dropping into a chair.

So. There _was_ something between them. He had read the signs correctly. Perhaps he could make up for earlier transgressions then if he could get them both to see it.  Or was that just more cruelty, considering what was going on below the city?

He blew out a sigh of frustration, got up and poured a glass of cider and took it back to his chair. One issue was enough when it came to Khadgar’s condition. Fel wounds they could keep in check until they found a way to stop it. Clearly the Archmage’s own defenses were keeping it from spreading too fast. But on top of … Kalec shook his head. _He overdosed, and did it on purpose. Even after what happened when he was addicted before._ It didn’t help that he had spent enough time with the man that there was more than friendship there.

Complications, complications and more complications.

Easy first. His feelings. He sipped from his glass and wished it actually had alcohol in it. Not that he couldn’t _make_ it alcoholic… but, no.  Wouldn’t help.  He felt more than simple friendship for Khadgar, but was it more than that? No. No. No it was not.  They were very close friends now, true, but there was no flutter of the heart, no twisting of his gut when they were together. He sighed, and was a little shocked to find himself relieved.

Then again, Khadgar had always been a little stand-offish since his return from Outland. No one ever pressed him for more than … more than ‘colleague’ status, if he thought about it carefully. He wouldn’t let anyone close.

Until now.

Why?

Kalec drained half his glass, determined to never ask. Something had happened in his years that turned him into a loner, when reports from his youth in Dalaran spoke of a friendly, overly curious young man. Then again, most haven’t been through the kind of Hells Khadgar had been through.

He raised his glass to his lips again when Medivh opened the door, leaving the study door open.

“Any changes?” Kalec asked. Medivh shook his head. “Damn. I had hoped…”

“Hoped?” Medivh settled in the chair opposite Kalec.

“A familiar voice, familiar presence…” He shrugged.

“It’s … almost as though he isn’t there,” Medivh said quietly. “Almost as though what lies there is an empty shell. It breathes. Its heart beats. But I could not … feel.”

“That’s what… That’s why it didn’t feel right,” Kalec said suddenly, setting his empty glass down. “He was there when I picked him up. He was there when I got a healer. He was still there when I got him back here.” He paled, his eyes dark with distress. “You don’t think he’s—“

“He isn’t dead. Fled, perhaps. I’ve heard of it happening. Here but not here,” Medivh said quickly. “If we figure out the reason he would have fled, we may have a better chance at getting him through this.”

Kalec sighed. “And we have a felblade wound and … some unknown dust overdose to contend with.”

“So we begin with what we know. The lines, you say, have not spread?” Medivh pressed.

“If they have, it’s been miniscule changes.”

Medivh nodded. “Then he’s still fighting – or at least his subconscious control over magic is.” Kalec blinked, then nodded, slowly. “And if his subconscious is fighting, there is something there to protect,” he went on. “Otherwise, there would be no control at all to fight it at all, and he would have been gone before you came to find me.” He sighed, tapping his lips. “The only problem is… How do we get around an overdose of unknown arcane substance, or substances, to … to…” He frowned. “Unless it is that unknown substance or substances that is keeping the blade’s poisons at bay.”

“Perhaps,” Kalec said softly. “The healer – the High Priest, in fact – mentioned something along those—“

A broken cry interrupted him.  Both Kalec and Medivh were on their feet before Kalec stopped. Their eyes met, Kalec nodded. Medivh moved. Kalec sank back into his chair.

Medivh nudged the bedroom door with his foot, not closing it all the way as his eyes focused on the form on the bed.  The blankets had been kicked aside, pulled apart and were in complete disarray. Khadgar lay tangled by one leg in the wreckage, his pillows askew, his hands clawing at the sheet below him.

By the time Medivh had reached him and pressed a hand to his chest in an attempt to soothe him, Khadgar had managed to pull the sheets loose as well.  It was several moments before Medivh could get the younger mage to still long enough for him to see that the lines had moved.

“Kalec!” Medivh’s voice carried easily, and within a heartbeat or two, the dragon-mage was in the doorway.

“What is… Oh no…” Kalec could see the lines clearly – and saw them before he took in the state of the bedding.

The lines were creeping even as they watched in horror.

“We have to stop them. If they reach his heart or any major artery, he’s done for,” Kalec breathed.

“We have to find out what he was taking – and get it into him,” Medivh murmured, as though thinking out loud. “Do you know if he had more of it?”

Kalec frowned. “He asked me to bring him… Wait.. Perhaps.” He was out of the room before Medivh could answer, and back before he could question. In his hand was a pale green silk pouch.  “He asked me to bring this to him. I cannot open it.” He offered the pouch to Medivh.

Medivh took it.  “Keep him still; the more he moves, the faster his heart beats, and the faster that will spread.”  He moved out of the way so Kalec could do so, murmuring soft words, and stroking his shoulders and chest, pulling one of the blankets up to cover his legs and hips. Meanwhile, Medivh tried to open the pouch.  The laces were loose, but it would not come open.  _Foolish child.._ he sighed and set to breaking the seal on the closure.  Another low cry seemed to indicate when he had, and as his fingers pulled the cinch open, he felt eyes on his back.

“Don’t—“

Kalec blinked as he found himself looking into Khadgar’s eyes. Wide, silvered where iris showed around pupils wide with fear, pain, distress…

Medivh found several vials like the one Kalec had seen Khadgar withdraw on the shore. “Is this what he took?” he asked Kalec, holding up one of them.

“That looks like it.”

Khadgar moaned, and Kalec stroked his forehead.

“He prepared several, it appears,” Medivh said softly.  “Here,” he said, pressing one of the vials into Kalec’s hand. “Find out what it is, we’re going to need more of it.” Kalec paled, but nodded and with a last caress, left the room.

“No…” Khadgar whispered softly, one hand reaching up to try to stop him.  He had not registered Medivh’s presence – until the Magus sat down on the edge of the ravaged bed, pulling the stopper out of the vial. “… M-Medivh…?”

“Shh…” Medivh soothed, his hand replacing Kalec’s against Khadgar’s forehead. “Can you sit up? You need to take this, and quickly, before those lines get any further.” While they had not been watching, the lines had curled along his back and too close to Khadgar’s heart for comfort.

“But…”

“No, do not argue. You’ve been unconscious for days, and you need this in your system.” He pressed the vial into Khadgar’s shaking hand.

Khadgar stared at it, numbly. It had been pain that woke him, and he knew that the vial’s contents would stop the pain. How had Medivh gotten here? Why was he here? As though his body was moving of its own accord, he lifted his palm and tipped the vial over it. He was not stupid enough to take the entire thing – not this time.  He offered the vial back, and it was taken from his hand. Medivh pointedly turned away as he stoppered the vial and set it on the table beside the bed.

Khadgar dusted off his hands and curled himself into a ball, resting his head on his knees and waited for the disorientation to pass.  He felt a hand on his back, rubbing soft comforting circles. He would know that touch anywhere.

They were quiet for a long time, until Khadgar’s disorientation had passed.  He broke the silence at last. “How…? Why…?”

“Kalec came to ask me for advice, but I was not about to find out you were here in pain and in trouble if I could do something about it.” Medivh sighed. “Explain,” he said softly. “Please.”

Khadgar was quiet for a long moment. He couldn’t lie. Not to Medivh. “I had to. Our forces were being slaughtered out there. I couldn’t stand by and watch it happen.”

“And before that?”

Khadgar sighed. “Kalec told you,” he said flatly, lifting his head to look up at Medivh, who nodded. “The first time was to create a salve that would save countless lives. I… I was stupid, but it was effective. The second was when there were Legion ships targeting Dalaran, and the defenses were … failing. I _had_ to. I was exhausted and I needed the focus.  I have no excuse for the weeks I spent on the Broken Shore – I tried to do everything myself.” He licked lips that were dry, and winced.  “And this time… this time…”

“You overdosed, Khadgar,” Medivh said softly, then patted his shoulder. “Stay.” He got up and left, returning a moment later with a glass of golden liquid. He pressed it into Khadgar’s hand. “Drink this; from what I understand you’ve had precious little that would remain down.” He reached out to steady the shaking hands.

Khadgar sipped carefully, the sweet cider feeling like a cooling balm against his dry tongue and throat. He shifted uncomfortably, reaching a hand down to the scarred-over wound. “Why does it hurt so much?” he asked softly.

“It was a felblade,” Medivh said softly. “Whatever you … concocted – that is keeping it from taking you.”

“I could … I mean… You sent Kalec to have it…” Medivh pressed a finger to his lips.

“You are in no condition to do more than lie there for now. Getting up, moving around too much – it could do serious damage.”

Khadgar took another careful sip from his glass, stopping himself from draining it at once. “My notes,” he said softly. “In the drawer of the desk. Under the raven.” Medivh patted his back gently, then rose to leave. “Medivh,” he said suddenly.

“Yes, Young Trust?”

Khadgar colored slightly, the blush stark against his too-pale skin. “I’m sorry.”

Medivh looked at him, then left the room. Khadgar continued working his way through the glass of cider, and set the empty glass on the table beside the vial of dust.  He resisted the urge to shatter the vial, and instead turned himself to look at the spreading lines along his side and his chest.  He traced a finger along one line that had crept right across and was nearly to his heart. He was going to die. He was going to die, and nothing was going to stop it. Why was he sitting here “recovering” when he should be using his final hours to _do_ something?

Just as he was about to swing his legs around and get up, Medivh returned. One look stopped Khadgar from moving. He dropped his eyes and sighed. He felt the side of the bed dip as Medivh sat down on it. A hand turned his head and tilted it up.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Medivh said softly, his hand tracing the line. “We _will_ get you through this. You will not die here.” He blinked, several times, and Khadgar’s eyes widened. “I… I will not allow it. I can _not_ allow it.” The words were hardly audible, but they were loud to Khadgar’s ears.

Khadgar opened his mouth to speak, but found himself unable. Faster than he could track, Medivh had leaned down and captured his lips with his own. The kiss was short, but no less heated or passionate for its short length.

“There will be time to talk, later, about this.” Medivh said softly before Khadgar could react further. “But if I do not say this, I will regret it if we are wrong.” He held Khadgar’s eyes. “I came here because I had a second chance. I have the chance to right what I’ve done in many ways – but one of the things I need to right is something personal. That is what I’ve done to you.” Khadgar tried to turn his head, but Medivh held him fast. “No, listen to me,” he hissed softly. “While I meant what I had said in Karazhan that day, there was more I wanted to say – and I could not, would not while others were present, nor after because… I was a coward and could not say the words. I suppressed much when you were my student, Khadgar. I kept my distance just enough so you could do what you had to do – and you did. Now that I have this second chance, and know that you are here… Like this. You _must_ live. Not for Azeroth alone – but for me.” He closed his eyes briefly, and chuckled. “And even now I cannot say the words.”

He could feel Khadgar’s pulse under his fingers, and cursed himself, glancing down at the Archmage’s chest. The lines were still, and his free hand lifted to trace it. “I have loved you for years,” he said, finally. “It was not my place to seduce my student. I had hoped that there was a way to free myself of that horrible darkness, but when I realize there wasn’t, you were the spark that kept me from doing much, much worse. You are no longer my student, but an Archmage in your own right, by your own hands, and less mine.” The pulse under his fingers fluttered, and fear began to bubble up in Medivh’s chest. “Now it is up to you.”

Khadgar swallowed, his mouth going dry again. Medivh’s words flowed over him like a cooling rain after a heatwave, leaving behind a healing he had never known he needed. His chest hurt and he wasn’t sure what it was. His vision swam, and he thought he would pass out again. He lifted a hand to cover the one against his chest as he searched the stormy green eyes he was forced to hold. “That’s why you pushed me away,” he said softly. “That night – when I kissed you after what happened with those orcs. I’d… I’d fought it, the entire flight home, as you held me after and…”

“When you kissed me and I returned it, I’d wanted so much more,” Medivh whispered. “But you were my student. I couldn’t. I held you out of my own selfish desire. I promised you that one day… you would have all you ever wanted.” He drew a breath. “And now… You are no longer my student. And I would give anything – _anything_ – to go back and change it. To act on what we both wanted. I cannot begin to tell you how much it hurts to see you like this, and know that I cannot do anything to change it. I have been told it is up to you to fight, but I will be _damned_ if I let you fight alone.” Khadgar stared at him, listening to the words flooding from Medivh as though a dam had burst. “There is nothing more than I want right now than to act on those desires, if you would let me. But I cannot. It would be your undoing, and this world needs you. _I_ need you. So we fight.”

Khadgar was quiet for a long moment, then reached up and slid a hand around the back of Medivh’s head and _pulled._ He ignored Medivh’s resistance, and kissed him, softly. “Promise me, then, that you will keep reminding me,” he said against Medivh’s lips. “Reminding me of why I’m fighting. I already know I fight for Azeroth. But this… I need the reminders. Promise me you won’t push me away. Promise me that the next time this Light-forsaken drug throws me into mindless desire that you will be here.”

Medivh nodded, kissing Khadgar as sweetly and softly as he could. “I promise.”

Kalec smiled from the open doorway, then tapped on the frame.  He frowned a little as the pair broke apart. Khadgar blushed.  “I found your notes, Khadgar – and it was the final bit of the puzzle. We can recreate this as long as it’s needed.”

Medivh nodded. “Good. Thank you.”

Kalec nodded his head. “The High Priest wants to see you, Khadgar – not immediately, but soon, to check your condition.”

Khadgar groaned, opened his mouth to protest, and found his mouth covered with Medivh’s hand. “I know about you and your constant insistence on sending healers away. Not this time.” He turned to Kalec. “Whenever she is ready; we can have him cleaned up and back in bed within the hour.”

Kalec chuckled. “I’ll send a note in about an hour then. For now… Can you take him into the sitting room? Modera’s sent up dinner for us all.  I’ll take care of the bedding, then join you.”

Medivh nodded, carefully aiding Khadgar to sit up, then get to his feet. His hand reached for the robe that was tangled in the bedding and pulled it around the Archmage’s shoulders, then guided him out to the sitting room.

Kalec sighed and remade the bed.  He had seen the line, and shook his head. It would be touchy, but he had a sinking feeling in his gut.

He could only pray to the Light that he was wrong.

 

The priestess pulled Medivh into the study, closing the bedroom door firmly. Medivh liked her – she took no nonsense from Khadgar or his protests.  But she also pushed Medivh into the chair by the desk and ran a hand through her hair, looking at him with… pity?

“I don’t know how to say this gently,” she said softly. “There is little hope. Whatever he’s taking is the only thing keeping him alive, Magus, and there’s absolutely no way he can keep taking it forever. It’s destroying him as much as it’s helping.”

Medivh was glad she had pushed him into the chair. If she hadn’t, he’d have fallen into it. “What?” he asked, shocked. “No, that’s—“

“All there is to say about it,” she said wearily. “I’ve done what I can – but… I mean you can try raising the dosage of that … dust, but there’s really nothing more you can do. It had too much time to spread, and it _is_ spreading.  It just needs to touch a major artery or his heart and from there it will spread faster than anyone can stop. It will be hours instead of weeks or days.” She lowered herself to one knee to look into the green eyes darkened and blanked by shock. “I’m sorry. The two of you have… history. And I can see the bond between you and… Oh damn there’s nothing I can say that can even…” She shook her head.

Medivh reached out a hand to touch her shoulder. “I… I should have expected it. You say there’s absolutely nothing that can do anything at all?”

Briyanna rubbed her nose and sighed, then reached up to touch his hand. “No. Barring a miracle or him suddenly being able to burn it away? It will consume him.  He will either turn into your worst nightmare or it will kill him outright.” She faltered, letting her hand drop from his. “It would be kinder, in all honesty, to just… let me…”

“Let you?” Medivh pressed, footsteps alerting him to Kalec’s presence.

“I’ve done it for another. He fought me when I did it, so he … he knew, but if we put Khadgar to sleep he just.. he wouldn’t wake. No pain, quietly. He would never know.”

“High Priestess… are you telling us that… you want to—“

Briyanna looked up at Kalec and shook her head. “I don’t _want_ to, Archmage, but – it would be kinder than keeping him drugged and letting that … that fel poison infect him further.”

“She just finished telling me,” Medivh said flatly, his voice void of any emotion, “that he has no hope beyond a miracle, even if we keep him drugged.” He looked up into Kalec’s shocked eyes, his own overbright. “He’s going to die, no matter what we do.” He bit his lip.

Kalec took the steps to put him behind the chair and put a hand on Medivh’s shoulder as Briyanna reached up to hug him.

All of his time spent wishing for a second chance, and it was slipping through his fingers faster than he could hope to grasp it. He couldn’t stop the tears from burning down his face, but he could force it to be silent. There was no reason to alert the quiet sleeper in the next room.

“This doesn’t leave this room,” Kalec murmured as he leaned down to add his own embrace to the priestess’. “Other than perhaps Modera who we can trust to keep this behind her teeth, this doesn’t leave this room until… until he’s…”

“Agreed,” the priestess murmured.

Medivh only nodded. One of his hands lifted to touch Kalec’s arm, the other he rested on the priestess’ shoulder.

It was several long moments before Kalec pulled away, prompting Briyanna to do the same. “Do you want me to stay?” she asked. Medivh shook his head. Briyanna nodded. “This decision is not mine to make. I trust that you will send for me if you choose to…” she trailed off.

“I will,” Kalec said softly.

Briyanna nodded, brushed her fingers against Medivh’s cheek, squeezed Kalec’s hand, and left.

“Medivh… I…” Kalec began, but Medivh raised his hand to cut him off.

“If I could, I would take it on myself,” he whispered. “He’s still so… so young. I am a whisper of the past – a whisper that would choose to stay as such but…” He shook his head. “I _cannot_ take his place, Kalec. Perhaps I was once Guardian, perhaps I still am, I don’t even _know_. But this world needs _him,_ not me. _He_ is the one who has brought the peoples together, the one who’s united Azeroth. I could just… pass back into shadows and… and break his heart a second time, but he still has friends who could support him, as well as his legacies of the champions he’s risen over time, the bonds he’s forged with each of them as well as the rest of the Council – the rest of the Kirin Tor.” He shook his head. “But I cannot take an injury like that from him. If I could…” He stopped speaking, dropping his head into his hands, finally giving into the tears he would not shed earlier.

“Medivh,” Kalec started, his voice breaking as he laid his hand on the Magus’ shoulder. “There is still hope of a miracle.”

Medivh didn’t answer for several long minutes, giving his grief time. If he mourned his beloved apprentice _now_ , perhaps he could keep up the act.  Finally he rubbed his cheeks with his sleeve and shook his head. “I love him, Kalec. And I only just told him. I’ve loved him for so long and when I died I couldn’t tell him, and now it’s too late, and there’s just… so much I…”

Kalec tugged gently at the Magus’ shoulder and Medivh stood, looking at the bedroom door and nodding.  Before he had taken more than a single step, Kalec’s arms were around him and one hand was in his hair.  “I know,” he whispered. “She said we had a little time. I will give you as much time as we possibly can give. Perhaps your love is the miracle we need for him.”

Medivh swayed a little, and Kalec led him into the sitting room and to the couch before he broke down completely, incoherent with pain and grief.  Kalec looked back through the study at the closed door, then closed his eyes and with a heavy heart, joined Medivh in mourning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this is gratuitous smut. But my ravens apparently talk when they're.. ah.. busy. So there is plot and fluff and talking.

Khadgar woke in pain. He pulled himself into a sitting position, and the form beside him gasped as he accidentally jabbed whoever it was with his elbow.  A light flared above them, warm and golden.

“Khadgar?” Medivh said sleepily, looking up and rubbing his side where Khadgar’s elbow had collided with him, his other hand still slightly raised from casting the light. At once, he was awake, seeing the pain on the Archmage’s face.  Without a word, he scrambled out of bed and picked up the vial on the table. “Here. I should have been more careful with the timing.” He grabbed Khadgar’s hand and turned it so the palm was up. Remembering what the priestess had said, he poured a larger dose into the palm.

Khadgar eyed the dust in his palm and looked at Medivh. “This is a much higher dose than I should—“

“Trust me,” Medivh said softly.

Khadgar sighed, and didn’t bother waiting for Medivh to turn his back. The scar was starting to burn, which meant the lines would start to move if he didn’t get the cursed dust into his blood, and quickly.

The dust burned as he inhaled, and he actually whimpered in pain at it. He could feel the nosebleed coming, and reached out to grab his handkerchief from the bedside table before it could start. He pinched his nose and leaned down, tears tracking down his face.

The pain ebbed. And the disorientation set in. Khadgar dabbed at his nose to be sure his nose had stopped bleeding, and dabbed his cheeks to clear the tears away, and he felt the bit of linen taken from his hand. Medivh had adjusted the light to move a bit further away, gotten back into bed and wrapped himself around Khadgar in a close embrace, a much closer one than earlier.

Three days had seen no changes for the better. The lines had not moved more than a hair’s breadth, but they were not receding either. Medivh had seemed almost determined to hold him as much as was possible, and had installed himself in Khadgar’s bed the first night without preamble.  Khadgar was used to not waking alone; Kalec had done the same before he went to find Medivh, but there was something jarring about waking next to someone he’d loved so much when he was younger.

It was something he was getting used to, and wanted to get used to. He’d dreamed of it for months before… well. It was in the past now, and Medivh was here, warm and real, and their feelings were in the open at last.

Medivh had been adamant about not doing more for the disorientation waves than holding him, and waiting for them to dissipate on their own, usually by holding Khadgar’s hands as he held the Archmage against his chest.

As Medivh reached for his hands, Khadgar pulled himself free, turning to look at his former master with a determined look in his eyes. “Medivh, I…” He swallowed. “I cannot bear this. Not another night,” he whispered. Medivh blinked at him in surprise, his hands still hovering. “I _need you_ ,” Khadgar insisted. “ _Please_ , Medivh.”

Medivh’s hands dropped and he stared at Khadgar for a long moment. “I – Khadgar you know how much I… but if I… if it…” he gestured to the line that had stretched across his chest, where the green and black lines twisted, and tiny lines spread from it, seeking. “I can’t be the one to kill you. I can’t. It would.. it would…”

“You raised my dosage of dust,” Khadgar said softly. “It should hold. If not, let me do it again. I can’t _take_ _this_ any longer.”

Medivh was startled into a blush. He had thought he would be the one to break; he thought _he_ would be the one to lose control and act on their mutual desire. Khadgar’s voice was soft but there was steel and power behind it and he shook his head, trying to bring both of them back to reality. “It could kill you,” he repeated even as his body betrayed just how _much_ he wanted.

He was very surprised when he found Khadgar’s lips against his own. The younger mage’s strength had certainly not been sapped by the fel in his veins, and though Medivh was no soldier, he was also not as soft as some mages he knew. He tried to push against Khadgar’s shoulders, but found his arms folding around them instead, giving into the kiss. He could allow this, if… if only this.

“Then let me die happy, Medivh.”

Medivh bit back a sob and pulled Khadgar against him. “I don’t _want_ you to die at all,” he hissed. “I want you to _live_. Not because you’re the damn Guardian, not because Azeroth needs you. Because I’m a selfish old man and I want you with me.” His words were punctuated by sharp kisses; to Khadgar’s lips, his throat, behind his ear, down his neck.

He was shocked to find himself infected with Khadgar’s need. He continued to fight it, even as Khadgar tried to mold himself against Medivh’s body.

Medivh moaned with longing and lifted his hands to put Khadgar a little distance from him.  “We can’t do this,” he whispered, hating himself for every word. “Light save me, Khadgar, I want this. I want you so much I can’t even… I haven’t the words to tell you how much.  But we can’t.. it could kill you and I can’t.. we … we can’t…”

“I told you,” Khadgar shot back, his eyes hard. “I can’t bear this. I _can’t_. If it’s going to kill me at least I’ll die happy.” He buried his face against Medivh’s shoulder. “Please, Medivh… if you’re afraid, let me take a second dose to keep it from spreading, just please don’t… don’t deny me this. Not after so long. Not when I could die any day and in the regret that we’ve never … _Don’t deny me this_.”

Medivh gripped his shoulders almost hard enough to bruise, forcing Khadgar to look at him. He closed his eyes after a few heartbeats, sighed, then his hands moved to cup Khadgar’s cheek and the back of his head, and the kiss he brushed against the Archmage’s lips was soft at first; a promise. “I can’t,” he whispered against them. “I can’t deny you any more than I can deny myself. I’ll deal with whatever consequences… I just…”

Before Khadgar could answer, he found his lips bruising under Medivh’s. His hands reached up to cup the sides of Medivh’s face as he tilted his head and parted his lips. His body was moving through the waves, and he didn’t care. In a moment he would be cold, but he knew he would be kept warm by the hand on the back of his head, the arm threading around his back, the body pressing against his. He wasn’t afraid. And the arousal wave hadn’t even hit him yet.

Medivh reached down to pull Khadgar’s legs apart to straddle him instead of hovering in the awkward half-kneel he was in. He ignored the contact between them that felt like molten fire, and concentrated on the heated kiss. They couldn’t rush this. No matter how much their bodies complained, Medivh wasn’t about to let them rush this – not when it could be the only time he ever…

Forcing the thought away, he pulled back from the kiss and pulled in a gasp of breath. “We… we have to slow down,” he hissed softly. Khadgar moaned in protest. “I know… Believe me I know. But… Oh Light, if we’re going to do this, then we have to at least take the time to… to…feel it.”

“I _am_ feeling it,” Khadgar snapped.

Medivh shook his head. “No,” he said softly. He reached a hand between them and brushed a finger along the already weeping slit. “You feel this – the need.” Khadgar arched, his cheeks flushing pink. “I want you to feel it… here.” He lifted the hand and pressed it flat against Khadgar’s heart. “If I’m going to love you, I’m going to _love_ you. I want you to be in no doubt. No secrets. Nothing standing between us. I won’t hide behind a shroud of mystery and I won’t hide behind lust.”

Khadgar swallowed, then nodded slowly. “It’s… it’s only fair that I give you the same.”  He licked his lips then swallowed again. “Kalec… Kalec and I…”

“I know.”

“I was a virgin, Medivh.”

“I know.”

“And you don’t…”

“Mind? No. Care? I do – but only insofar as that you have enough experience now that you aren’t going to fall apart on me within heartbeats.  Besides, Kalec also let slip another very interesting fact.” Medivh leaned to murmur directly against Khadgar’s ear, his lips brushing the outer shell. “You were never within him.” Khadgar shivered, then nodded confirmation. “I’ve never let anyone within me, Khadgar. Never with all the lovers I’d taken to my bed in my youth.” Khadgar gasped and Medivh smiled, wondering if the mage had added it up. “Not until now. Tonight. With you. You will have that opportunity, should you wish to take it.” And before Khadgar could answer, he bit the lobe, worrying it between his teeth.

“Medivh.. I.. I…” Khadgar’s lips brushed Medivh’s ear, his neck and across to his lips again. “If it’s what you want…”

“Is it what _you_ want?” Medivh pressed.

“As long as it’s you, I want it all,” Khadgar whispered against Medivh’s lips, and nudged those lips open with his tongue.

Medivh knew it was the dust making him so bold, when there was once shyness in many matters in his apprentice. But this was the confidence he knew and loved. Even as relatively inexperienced as he was, Khadgar was taking the initiative and boldly taking what he wanted. As if Medivh was his equal, not his master.

Oh _that_ was a heated thought…

Medivh felt the cold flash as it spread along Khadgar’s skin and answered the shiver with the offer of the warmth of his own body, hands splayed across the Archmage’s back. “Stay with me,” he murmured against the pause in the kiss as Khadgar gasped.

“I am,” Khadgar murmured back, closing the kiss again, but only briefly. “It’ll hit soon,” he whispered. “I’m not going to be myself, Medivh… I’m not going to be _able_ to stop – not until… until…”

“I know, it’s all right. I have you.” Medivh brushed his lips against Khadgar’s cheek. “Tell me now, what you want. Before your mind starts to get too fuzzy.”

Khadgar could have wept. Instead he hissed, “I don’t know. I just know I need… you.” His hips shifted restlessly as the cold began to fade and his skin started to feel like he was on fire. “Soon. Now. Something. Medivh, please I’m not… I can’t…”

“Shh, it’s all right. Stay with me. Think. We have the time, and I don’t think, judging from what Kalec has told me of your past performances, that it will be over in one round.” Medivh’s hands slid lower, one moving to steady Khadgar’s hips, the other rubbing soothing circles on his back.

Khadgar chuckled weakly. “Familiar first,” he whispered. “Drawer in the table. Goldclover and Tiger Lily with a Frost Rose touch.” His hands slid down Medivh’s sides. “It will take the edge off… off us both. Otherwise I won’t last if … _when_ I,” he blushed, “take you.”

“Fair,” Medivh murmured, pulling away just long enough to open the drawer and dig for the jar. “Especially since I _do_ want you to last…” A faint blush spread across his cheeks as he turned back and pulled Khadgar against him again. “I want to know I’ve been taken. I want to know and I want to be able to remember every instant.  I … I only wish I had more of myself to give.”

Khadgar shifted enough to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “You gave more to me than you know, over the years,” he said quietly.

Medivh shrugged a shoulder and guided Khadgar to lay back again. “But not of myself,” he began, nudging one of his thighs out of his way.

“That’s not how I see it,” Khadgar replied, shifting so Medivh had space to work, shivering a little as his skin suddenly began to feel loose. As long as they were talking, he could keep his mind – at least he hoped. “You gave me your time, your teachings, and you have offered me your heart.” He gestured, smiling impishly. “And now your body as well.”

Medivh paused, his fingertips in the jar. “Well.. Yes, but… I would prefer to offer you more.” He set the jar down, placing the lid beside it. “My heart, my soul, my love… My life.” His fingertips dragged along Khadgar’s cleft, letting the salve warm against the skin before he brushed against his entrance. “As well as guidance, companionship…”

Khadgar gasped softly as the salve warmed, and sighed quietly. “You should know already that you have all of that from me. I still regret what happened all those years ago. The only thing that stopped me from feeling guilt were your words, and what you said to me on that balcony.”

Medivh chuckled, pressing a finger against tight muscle. “I saw the hope in your eyes. I didn’t know exactly when or how you would find me again. I only wish I had asked you to stay when you did – to talk to me once the others had gone.  Perhaps this – all of this – could have happened sooner.” He slid his finger past the muscle as he spoke, eliciting another gasp. “But, I should have tried to seek you out sooner.”

“Karazhan was more important,” Khadgar hissed, arching into the touch, his skin tingling and arousal setting in. “I wasn’t as diligent in keeping up the wards, and it was only because I was too much of a coward to go back until… Until I needed answers… And then when I realized it was under attack, I… I had to do something.”

“And so you did,” Medivh murmured, leaning to touch his lips to Khadgar’s temple. “So you did. It was you – and your actions there when you’d returned the first time – that started to call me back there. I was just too afraid to try to venture out. No matter how lonely it was there, I was too afraid.” He slid a second finger in while Khadgar was distracted, and slowly began to stretch him. “But not now. And never again.”

Before Khadgar could answer, Medivh was kissing him again; the brush of his lips turned quickly into a heated, passionate  battle for dominance. Medivh pulled back before Khadgar could win. “It’s setting in, isn’t it?” he murmured. Khadgar nodded.  “Then we talk later about it. For now… I’m not hurting you?”

Khadgar shook his head. “No – no not at all.” Medivh leaned up a little to look at his former student’s eyes. Khadgar met Medivh’s eyes easily, his pale blue darkened to the color of the sea where they showed around his pupils. “You could actually be a little less ... um. Gentle. In fact.”

Medivh expected Khadgar to blush. When he didn’t, his own eyes, the color of a stormy sky, widened. In response, he slid a third finger in. Khadgar arched into it and hissed. “I used to dream,” Medivh said idly, working his fingers apart, “about this. Doing this to you. Before – and after – what happened. When you were younger, I was always so careful in my dreams. Lately… It was much like this.” He withdrew his fingers, spreading them, then closed them again as he pushed them back in slow, deliberate thrusts.

“You – You dreamed… of this?” Khadgar asked, his voice quiet. His hips lifted into, and against, Medivh’s hand.

“Often. I couldn’t help it,” Medivh murmured, speeding his movements slightly, spreading his fingers further with each thrust. “There were nights that I wondered if you could hear me, in fact, as I … took care of the result of those dreams.” He shifted closer, pressing himself against Khadgar’s hip, rocking against it in time with his hand’s movements.

Khadgar swallowed, audibly, his lips parted in surprise. “You must know then,” he half-moaned. “I did the same.  Nights that I just… let your voice replay in my mind – especially when we had those incredible conversations that were both animated and fascinating before we turned in.” He squirmed a little, then slid his leg between Medivh’s, curling it around one leg and pulling the older mage closer.  “Those rare moments when you called me by name, and I wondered what it would be like… if you—“

“Said it in the throes of ecstasy?” Medivh murmured. Khadgar nodded. “I did. Often – and I wondered the same about you – though it was so difficult sometimes, to get you to call me by name.  Every time you said it when I didn’t have to correct you sent heat down my spine.”

Medivh withdrew his hand and Khadgar’s hips lifted, chasing the touch, moaning in loss. He turned to dip his fingers back into the jar, spreading more of the salve against Khadgar’s skin. “Medivh,” Khadgar murmured. “P-please.. I’m…”

“Be still; I’m working on it,” Medivh hissed back. “Light, just thinking about this… knowing it’s not a dream…” he trailed off as he rocked harder against Khadgar’s hip.

“This is no dream,” Khadgar ground out. “If it is, I don’t want to wake up.”

Medivh gently disentangled himself from Khadgar’s leg and pulled himself up onto his knees, hissing as he worked the salve onto his cock. “Nor do I. I’m half afraid it is one.”  He looked at Khadgar for a moment, their eyes meeting.  “It’s no dream,” he said quietly.  “Your eyes were never that dark in my dreams. Never that wide. Never glowing from within.”  He lifted his hand and drew a rune in midair, then sent it into the walls, and another at the door. “No use in alarming anyone; and I don’t want anything to stop you from being as loud as you want – or need – to be.” He nudged Khadgar’s leg out of his way with his knee as he settled between them. “And I intend for you to be as loud as my dreams, if not more.”

Khadgar moaned, his hands curling around the sheets beneath him.  Medivh looked down, frowned for a moment, then pulled himself up and slid off the bed.

“What are you—“

“I don’t exactly feel like trying to change the bedding during a fine opportunity to bask in afterglow,” Medivh murmured, touching a kiss to Khadgar’s forehead as he crossed to get a pair of towels from the dresser, the light following him.  He (and the light) returned to the bed, and nudged Khadgar’s hip. “Lift,” he instructed.

Khadgar planted his feet and lifted, and Medivh slid a towel beneath him, dropping the other beside him. As Khadgar lowered himself onto the towel, Medivh took a moment to admire him. Khadgar canted his head slightly. “Is something wrong…?”

“Not at all. Just admiring the view.” Medivh slid back onto the bed, settling himself between Khadgar’s thighs.  He slid an arm under one of his knees and lifted it. Khadgar chuckled, then lifted the leg to drape over Medivh’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you were that flexible,” Medivh chortled.

“I learned to be, years ago.  Easier to dodge missiles if you can contort a little,” Khadgar grinned back.  He curled his leg, effectively pulling Medivh closer. “If you don’t do something, I’m going to start slipping,” he warned.  “My head is already starting to feel a little funny.”

Medivh took the subtle hint and leaned over the younger mage, kissing him deeply as his hand slid between them. “Then before you start succumbing to it… Succumb to _me_ instead, Khadgar,” he whispered against his lips.

Khadgar opened his mouth to offer a witty retort, but it died before it reached his tongue.  Instead, he moaned, darkly, as he felt the telltale nudge, and then insistent pressure against his entrance. He gasped as he felt his muscle give way and relaxed.

Medivh gasped sharply as he suddenly sank a few inches. He hesitated for the space of a blink before thrusting sharply, unable to stop the motion.  He leaned forward, balancing his weight on his free hand, the other sliding up along Khadgar’s side.

“Who’s succumbing to who here?” Khadgar finally managed, his arms curling around Medivh’s back.

Medivh snapped his hips forward and Khadgar cried out, his hands curling so his nails bit into Medivh’s skin. “I would say,” he murmured, “it’s mutual.” His hips slid back again, slowly. “I also did get a bit of other information from Kalec,” Medivh whispered against Khadgar’s neck.  “You seem to like being talked to.”

“Oh Light…” Khadgar groaned.

“Is that not true?” Medivh asked, lifting himself up on his hands again.

“It’s true,” Khadgar replied, blushing.

“Good.” Medivh leaned down to nip at Khadgar’s ear. “Because I rather think I have always done things with my voice – considering what you told me earlier.” His hips moved evenly now, and he could feel Khadgar trembling under him. “But this time it won’t be animated or fascinating arcane subjects.”

“Medivh…” Khadgar groaned, arching upwards.

“I told you I’ve dreamed of hearing you say my name like that… Just like you just did,” Medivh whispered. “I didn’t ever tell you what it _did_ to me.” One arm curled inward as he sank down again, the other supporting the leg that slid off his shoulder. “But I’m willing to bet you feel it.” His hips were moving slightly erratically and he wasn’t making any effort to keep his thrusts even, not with the way Khadgar was arching against him.

Khadgar buried his head against Medivh’s shoulder and nodded, unable to form words. It was a few heartbeats before he could pull enough sense back into his mind to even say the name again; a low whine against skin.  He was shifting restlessly, his free leg curling around the older mage’s waist.

Medivh dropped the other leg and it immediately twisted around his waist.  Heedless of the ankles crossed and digging into the small of his back, he maddeningly slowed down.  Freer now to keep his balance, he turned his head to nip the lobe of Khadgar’s ear. “Not yet,” he murmured. “I’m inclined to wait until it pulls you under.” His tongue worried the lobe as he seemed to be thinking of how to further incense his former student. “Though I’m sure you realize that even now I’m far from done thinking of ways to drive you mad.  Far from through thinking of ways to make you moan my name like that again – and again – until I’ve turned you into the ruin I’ve always imagined you would be beneath me.”

Khadgar shuddered under the onslaught of the words, his arms lifting and curling around Medivh’s shoulders, clinging to him as though to a lifeline. Perhaps he was. “Please, Medivh, I’m not going to—“

“You think you won’t,” Medivh murmured. “But you will. You will because it’s so deeply ingrained into you somewhere – hard-wired – that you listen to me.  You listen to me and follow my orders.” Khadgar made a frustrated noise and Medivh smiled. “You see? You know that even now.  If we’re going to take the edge off you – and me both – we’re going to wait until you are fully within its grasp.  And once the edges are off, I have no intention of stopping this. You are going to be exhausted and completely sated before I am through with you. I don’t care how long it takes or what it takes.”  As he spoke, his words turned breathless.

Unfortunately for Medivh, his former apprentice had a few years to come up with words he had wanted to say and never dared. “Technically,” he breathed, “you are no longer my master. Technically, I don’t have to listen to you. Technically, I don’t have to follow your orders. Technically, right now, I outrank you.” His arms tightened and his next words were breathless, dripping with desire. “But I would follow you into the pits of the Nether itself, Medivh.”

The words were enough to cause Medivh’s movements to falter, and his eyes widened as he pulled himself back to look at Khadgar, finding himself staring into a pair of darkened blue eyes, the barest bit of iris showing around lust-blown pupils, eerily glowing blue. He blinked, startled, then leaned down to crush his lips against his former apprentice’s, eyes sliding closed for the briefest of moments. When he pulled back, he met those eyes again, and murmured, carefully, against the lips beneath his. “When it is you above me, claiming me for your own, I will follow any command you give me.” His hips snapped forward again; a reminder. “For now, I think it’s more than time you have those edges removed before your mind slips into nothing.” Their lips met, briefly.

Khadgar blinked, his mind having been on the words he was speaking, not on the way his body tingled, or the sparking of nerves or the insistent pressure building in his groin. They hadn’t seemed important a few moments ago, but now… but now…

“Oh Light,” he breathed, his eyes widening as he suddenly realized how far he’d fallen into the dust’s grasp. His hands closed in again, his nails biting into Medivh’s shoulders. The glow in his eyes intensified as he blinked again. The arousal he had ignored twined around his nerves and he arched upwards, urgently, trying to find some kind of friction between them. Now that Medivh had brought his attention to it, he could not will it away again.  “Medivh… Oh, Medivh, please.. I’m…”

Medivh actually laughed softly, touching his lips to Khadgar’s again. “Frantic? Lost? Yes, that you are.” A hand slid between them. “You’re also very close,” he murmured, brushing his fingertips against what he could of Khadgar’s arousal.  He leaned up and back, Khadgar’s hands sliding down his chest as he tried to prevent him from moving away.  “Shh,” he soothed, “I want to watch you come undone. Because of me. _For_ me.”

Khadgar bit off a sob before it could blossom and instead gave a choked moan.  He arched into Medivh’s hand as it curled around him, his muscles tightening around Medivh within him. The sparks along his nerves settled into a continuous hum, and he couldn’t control his trembling. He was turning into a human-shaped twisting hollow of need and he couldn’t stop the moan from escaping, though he bit down on his lip to stifle it.

Medivh reached forward and slid the lip from between Khadgar’s teeth. “No,” he murmured, the word firm if breathless. “Let me hear you. Let the world hear you, Khadgar.” The moan was louder this time, and Medivh rewarded the sound by slowly moving his hand in slow, steady strokes. “That’s better,” he sighed.

The touch was not enough and too much.  Khadgar arched further, his back aching from the strain. “Medivh—“ he gasped, his skin aching as his nerves began to turn to liquid fire, his blood to molten lava. “Medivh, _please_ – I … I—“

“I know,” Medivh murmured, his movements faltering as he struggled to control himself. He may not have been trapped in drug-induced lust, but Khadgar was no less a drug to him. His eyes closed briefly as he tried to keep himself stable. He was losing the battle, and quickly. “Khadgar,” he moaned, quietly.

For a moment, Khadgar wasn’t sure he’d heard his name – not like that, not from those lips, not in that voice. One hand lifted to rest on Medivh’s forearm – some kind of physical contact other than where they joined. He opened his mouth again to speak, but could not force words out and all he uttered was a low cry. He wanted nothing more than to tell Medivh to just let this take him where it would – but when the Magus’ eyes opened again he gasped; the flash of verdant viridian distracted him. He had not expected Medivh’s eyes to glow. So he had less control than Khadgar had thought.  “Medivh,” he hissed, insistently, his hips trying to thrust both against the hand around him and into the cock within him.  Even now, he waited, as though a slave conditioned.

Medivh’s eyes flickered from the Archmage’s startled expression to the weeping, throbbing cock under his fingers and back. “Let me watch you,” he insisted, unable to keep the moan out of the words. “You can’t be far, Khadgar, please, let me see you come undone… let me watch as you l-lose t-the…” He snapped his mouth shut and closed his eyes, his lips parting again as another moan escaped. He couldn’t keep up the charade. He was at least as close now, and he wouldn’t… not now, not yet. Words tumbled from his lips before he could check them, before he could stop them – words that sounded as though he’d spoken them before, in the same desperate manner. “Khadgar – please… I … I can’t… I can’t keep this… this…” His tongue darted out to moisten lips going dry with his breathing. “Oh _Khadgar_ , d-don’t… s-stop it… Come for me – let me watch as you fall apart… please… Oh Khadgar _please let go!_ ”

Khadgar had been caught, fascinated by the glow as it intensified in Medivh’s eyes as he spoke. The words were only half recognized until the last few – which were loud enough to pierce the haze and he recognized them as the desperate plea they were.  Even if Medivh had given the order to hold back just after, even if he’d tried to block it somehow – it was too late. He couldn’t tell if he was screaming or if it was the song of rushing blood in his ears, or the sudden surge of arcane energies he felt along his spine, or if it was the culmination of the pressures that would no longer be contained.

“Medivh,” he hissed, warningly, ignoring the screaming in his ears, the pain along his back. “Medivh… Oh _Medivh_ …”

Medivh stilled himself, watching his former apprentice’s expression as he felt the heat across his hand, and his eyes dropped to Khadgar’s chest, blushing hotly. His hand slowed, and he heard glass shattering from across the room, and several books fall from the bookcases. He bit his lip, watching as Khadgar’s breath began to slow, and the eyes opened again, looking shocked. Medivh slowly drew his hand away, staring at it for a moment before he looked back at the younger mage. 

Khadgar blinked, his eyes also drawn to it, and the blush that crept across his cheeks was no less hot than Medivh’s.  Once he’d caught his breath somewhat, he looked back up at Medivh.  “You… You’ve not…”

Medivh shook his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to – or need to. “I’m afraid,” he murmured just loud enough for Khadgar to catch the words over the sound of his harsh breathing, “that I was far too entranced by you.”

Khadgar’s blush spread, but he nudged one of his feet against Medivh’s back. “Perhaps you should…” he trailed off, as though whatever he was going to say fell out of his head. Perhaps it had.

Medivh swallowed, then nodded, though didn’t move for a moment, looking back down at his hand again. Curiosity welled up in him and he brought it to his lips, letting his tongue dart out to run across the back of it. He heard Khadgar’s breath catch, and his eyes shifted back to meet a very shocked look, but one as entranced as the one Medivh had worn as he’d watched Khadgar’s completion.  His eyes dropped again as he sucked at the back of his hand, ignoring the moan he heard, not realizing it was his own.  He let his hand drop once it was cleaner, then smirked, leaning over Khadgar again. “I will have to explore that more in depth before the night is over,” he whispered, giving in at last to the insistence of the heel that continued to nudge his back.

Medivh could feel the heat of Khadgar’s gaze as he watched openly as he started to move again. He fought to keep himself steady, but the bittersweet salt still on his tongue and the image of Khadgar coming undone still in his mind meant he couldn’t keep himself calm.

It certainly didn’t help that as soon as he found a pace that he could keep steady, Khadgar decided to turn the tables on him, yet again. A predatory smile that spread to his still faintly glowing eyes caused Medivh to falter the first time. That those blue eyes held his as Khadgar’s hand slid across his own hip and curled around himself. Medivh opened his mouth to speak, but Khadgar beat him to it. “You said you wanted to watch me come undone,” he breathed. His ankles tightened a fraction around Medivh’s back. “Let me watch you come undone, now.”

Medivh made a tiny noise in the back of his throat as he sped up, his eyes glowing a little brighter. “You said you wanted to hear me say _your_ name,” he ground out, “didn’t you?”

Khadgar nodded. Admittedly he hadn’t had dreams of Medivh once he had mourned the loss, but since he found out that his master was alive… the old dreams had resurfaced with a vengeance, and with it the renewed wonder if he would ever hear Medivh say his name like that. He’d heard it now, but oh, he hungered for it, even as his fingers teased his hardening cock.

The movement caused Medivh’s eyes to drop to follow it, and he made another noise, his hands sliding along Khadgar’s sides to his hips, gripping them with almost bruising force. “You _torment_ me,” he hissed, forcing himself to look up and meet Khadgar’s eyes again. The amusement that mingled with the desire there was too much. His hands tightened and his control slipped away. “Khadgar,” he whispered, his eyes closing, unable to take that heated gaze. “Khadgar…” this time it was a moan, and he forced his eyes open again, needing to _know_ this was no dream, no lust-fantasy. Their eyes locked. “Oh, Khadgar… Khadgar I’m … I’m… _Khadgar-!_ ”

Khadgar had not known Medivh could make that noise. Nor was he aware he could arch that way, or that his hands would feel so incredibly good against his hips.  He dropped his hand quickly, moaning in sympathy as he felt Medivh’s release, digging his hands into the towel beneath him to stop himself from doing anything else.

Medivh slumped forward, panting harshly, and Khadgar raised his hands to catch him before he fell. Medivh’s hands moved to catch himself a fraction of a moment later, and he disengaged with a low moan, shaking as he reached for the towel next to him. He managed a sketchy cleanup before he collapsed beside Khadgar, still trying to catch his breath. One arm draped over the younger mage’s chest and pulled him closer. “Not… a dream,” he murmured.

Khadgar slid an arm under him with care and pulled Medivh close. “No,” he murmured back. “No dream ever felt that good. Ever.” He began to run a hand through Medivh’s tangled hair, gently carding it through his fingers.

Medivh made a noise of agreement and shifted to lay his head on Khadgar’s shoulder, his eyes still glowing, and wondering if he’d broken anything as he caught the reflection on Khadgar’s skin. The arm draped over Khadgar’s chest shifted to let his hand trace over the skin of his chest, his eyes drawn to the line creeping across it. He deliberately chose to trace his patterns of nonsense along the opposite side. “How do you feel?” he asked at last.

“Better,” Khadgar replied quietly. “For now, anyway.”

“You know I’m not done with you.”

“Nor am I with you.”

They were quiet again for a little while, before Khadgar shifted, uncomfortably. Medivh lifted his head and tilted his head slightly. “What is it, Young Trust?” he whispered, almost absently.

“It’s starting again,” Khadgar sighed in frustration. “Not that I’m not enjoying it, it’s just…”

“Frustrating because it’s a need more than a want?” Medivh hazarded. Khadgar nodded. “Well. I assure you that I’m not immune, and it is a want, more than a need.” He touched a kiss to Khadgar’s clavicle, then another to the clear side of his chest, slowly moving downward.

“Medivh,” Khadgar whispered, “what are you – oh… Oh _Light…_ ”

Medivh’s tongue was running a slow line along one of Khadgar’s thighs, tantalizingly close to his balls, which he pointedly ignored despite the way the younger mage squirmed. “I told you,” he said softly, just loud enough for Khadgar to hear him, “I wanted to … explore this, I believe my words were, more in depth. So I am.”

“Explore” was an understatement. Medivh’s tongue ran along the line of his thigh, up to his hip and skirted along to his stomach, and no matter how Khadgar moved, no matter how he begged, he could not convince Medivh to alter his course.  Medivh bit down on the flesh of his stomach to hush him at least twice on his way up to worry the nipple on the clear side of Khadgar’s chest with his tongue. He smirked slightly at the harsh panting he could hear and feel, and it wasn’t until one of Khadgar’s hands lifted to curl into his hair that he realized he may have pushed his former student too far.

The way Khadgar cried out as his tongue brushed his shaft was beyond exquisite, and worth having his hair pulled, in Medivh’s opinion. As he took Khadgar in, he listened to the helpless noises, letting the hand twisted in his hair guide him as to what places were most sensitive. Once he had finished exploring every millimeter of skin, he settled to work, insistently. He settled his hands on Khadgar’s hips to keep the younger man still as he worked, ignored the pulls at his hair when he could tell he was close, ignored the warning moans and pleas to stop before it was too late.

Khadgar twined his other hand in Medivh’s hair, arching as much as the hands on his hips would let him, losing himself in the sensations Medivh was drowning him in. It was happening so fast, and he was helpless to it, wanting the torment to end and wanting it to be drawn out at the same time. He tried pulling with both hands, but Medivh was insistent on remaining where he was. He knew words were falling from him, pleas, begging, but he only heard his own voice, rising in both volume and pitch as he spoke.

Medivh, however, heard the words. He had some trouble discerning “if you don’t stop I’ll—“ from the actual warning, however, and he was slightly surprised when the warning was suddenly followed by the flood across his tongue and the sharp yank on his hair. He didn’t bother suppressing the moan as he drew back enough to allow himself the space to swallow, and when he drew away with a parting suck as Khadgar’s hands released him and dropped away, he looked beyond satisfied with himself.

Khadgar was too busy trying to catch his breath to see Medivh’s expression, however. Medivh was amused to see that the glass that had been on the bedside table beside the vial of dust was melted. He slid upwards, dropping chaste kisses to Khadgar’s sweat-sheened skin, and waited.

Khadgar stared at him, looking rather surprised. “Why … why didn’t you…”

“Stop when you begged?” Medivh grinned, his tongue darting out over his lips. “Reasons,” he said, maddeningly.  Khadgar groaned, dropping his head against his pillow. Medivh chuckled softly.

Khadgar shifted to rest his head against Medivh’s shoulder. “Will you let me return the favor?” he asked, softly.

Medivh looked at him, surprised. “I.. well, if you want to – I’m not going to—“

“I do,” Khadgar said softly, stretching himself out. “After a break, though,” he added. “I could probably use a wash.”

“We both could,” Medivh mused, touching a kiss to Khadgar’s temple. “But this isn’t over,” he murmured, sliding himself to a position he could help Khadgar up.

A warm bath did a great deal to revive them both, as did a glass of sunfruit cider.  Khadgar lamented on the clock he’d shattered, and Medivh put him back in his chair when he tried to retrieve the fallen books.

Medivh resettled in the chair opposite once the books were back on the shelves and looked at Khadgar, who was lost in thought. Again.  His eyes were drawn to the lines that had spread a little since the last time Medivh had taken a _good_ look at them.  One was creeping up Khadgar’s left shoulder, and was more green than black and glowed faintly.  A line crept low across his stomach and down into the towel wrapped around his waist, black as night.  He sighed. They were running out of time.

He resisted the urge to get up and pull Khadgar against him and admit what he knew. It would do the man no good. As long as they held on to some kind of hope, there was a chance. The line across his chest had not moved, though it seemed to mock him, its lines of green and black twining like vines.  He blinked, and realized one or two thinner lines had begun to creep outward, one reaching upwards toward his throat, the other down, appearing to aim for his navel.

Khadgar tilted his head at him. “Medivh?” he asked softly, the single word asking many questions at once.

Medivh shook his head. “It’s nothing, Young Trust. Woolgathering.” He smiled. “Wondering how I managed to find myself here, after avoiding Dalaran successfully for years, wondering how I find myself in such a familiar setting, sitting across from you in companionable silence, sharing a drink and not needing to speak to communicate.”

Khadgar blushed. “It… it is familiar, isn’t it?” he mused softly. He set his glass down, stood up, then moved to settle himself at Medivh’s feet, kneeling on the fluffy rug that covered the floor. “Though, there are a great many things I can do now that I could not all those years ago, that I …” He ducked his head, blushing. A stray lock of hair fell in his face and dripped water against his temple.

Medivh reached down, almost absently and brushed the lock back, his thumb brushing the droplet of water aside. “Such as?”

Khadgar leaned his head against Medivh’s towel-draped thigh. “This, for one,” he said softly. “I’d wanted to do this, so often. Just… just to be close to you.”

Medivh smiled, touched. He let his hand run through Khadgar’s damp hair, petting him absently. “It would have been welcome,” he said softly. “I don’t think I would have stopped you from doing this, and it would probably have eased some of the tension between us.”

“I was too afraid,” Khadgar admitted after a long moment.

Medivh’s smile widened a touch, his hand still running through Khadgar’s hair. “You’re not now.”

“No. Not now.” Khadgar looked up, then smiled, the slightest hint of mischief in his eyes. “Though,” he said slowly, “you probably wouldn’t have allowed me to do this.” He lifted a hand and slid it under the towel, fingertips sliding upwards along Medivh’s thigh.

Medivh’s breath caught. His hands moved to the arms of the chair and he gripped the edges. “No,” he breathed. “I … probably wouldn’t have.”

The fingertips trailed upwards as Khadgar rose on his knees, brushing over the arousal that was becoming more evident by the moment. His other hand slid up to move the towel aside, and his tongue began to trace the line his fingertip had a moment before. He slid the upper hand back so he could use both to pull the towel free. He glanced up at Medivh for a moment before dropping a kiss against his knee, then leaned up to run his tongue along his abdomen. “Will you now?” he murmured against the skin.

“I haven’t stopped you,” Medivh pointed out.

Khadgar hummed at that, but remained where he was. “That doesn’t answer my question,” he said softly.

“Yes,” Medivh breathed. “Please, Khadgar… don’t tease me much.. I—“

“You restrained earlier,” Khadgar murmured, shifting his arms to nudge Medivh’s legs apart so he could settle himself between them. “I remember. And I … wanted to do this earlier, but… well.”

“You were tired, and we both needed a bath,” Medivh pointed out. “Are you sure you want to do this here?”

Khadgar ran his tongue along the sensitive head as he thought about it, reveling in the sharp gasp followed by the moan he had drawn from the Magus. “I’m sure,” he said softly. “I’d rather return when.. when we…” He blushed faintly, then returned to his explorations for a moment. “When _I_ return an earlier favor.” He ran his tongue down the shaft, pressing a sharp kiss near the root. “To take you up on  your offer.” His eyes lifted, taking in Medivh’s parted lips, his surprised wide emerald eyes. “While I’m not under the influence of drug-induced lust. While it’s just _us_ and I can control myself.” His voice lowered slightly as he held Medivh’s eyes. “I want to watch _you_ come undone beneath me, Medivh.”

Medivh’s eyes flashed slightly and Khadgar chuckled, low in the back of his throat. Medivh shivered and his knuckles turned white.  “I—“ Medivh swallowed, and felt Khadgar’s eyes watch as his throat worked. “Certainly would never have allowed this… but if you spoke like that to me then…” He blinked a few times, clearing his eyes of the mist. “I would have been as helpless to stop you then as I am now.”

Khadgar blushed slightly, then dropped his eyes to continue to explore, both with fingers and tongue. His fingertips traced the lines of Medivh’s inner thigh, sliding upwards to brush a thumb over the curve of a testicle beneath the skin as his tongue investigated the length of the shaft above it. His other hand rested against Medivh’s hip, fingers still loosely wrapped around the towel he’d moved.

“Khadgar,” Medivh sighed, his hands clenching a little tighter. “Please… _Please…_ ” He longed to close his eyes, but could not, his eyes riveted to his former apprentice, unable to look away.

Khadgar felt a little light-headed at Medivh’s tone, but he shifted enough that he could take Medivh’s length between his lips, curling his tongue against the underside of the shaft as he drew it in. He shivered a little when Medivh made a choked sound, then moaned. His hips jerked a little in a swiftly-aborted thrust. Khadgar’s hands moved to pin his hips, and Medivh couldn’t help but marvel at the strength hidden there.

Ignoring the noises of protest, and the pleading that came with them, Khadgar took his time, pausing every time he felt Medivh tense. Medivh kept his hands where they were, afraid that if he didn’t he would do the unthinkable if one – or both – of them found their way into Khadgar’s hair. He was trembling under the assault, and if the slight smile he felt was any indication, Khadgar was enjoying every moment. He _thought_ he felt the younger mage chuckle when he started begging.

Medivh was only human, however, and had his limits, and was swiftly reaching them. He could feel his hips straining to lift under Khadgar’s hands, and he could hear his own moans in his ears.

One of Medivh’s hands lifted from the arm of the chair, and brushed against Khadgar’s hair, gently. He repeated the gesture, fingers sliding through the damp silver strands. The third found his hand tangled in them, and he fought to keep his hand from clenching. “Khadgar,” he warned, his voice breathless as he fought to draw air into his lungs. “I-if you don’t stop… and stop _now_ …” He bit back the rest of the warning on a choked cry.

Khadgar wasn’t stopping; one hand had moved from Medivh’s hip and the fingers were curled around the base of his cock and the thumb was pressing up against the underside, stroking it.

Medivh’s hand tightened, and he was tensing. “Khadgar – _please_.  I can’t…” He felt the suction increase, could see Khadgar’s cheeks hollowing slightly. It was nearly too much. “I _can’t…_ Khadgar… _stop_.. before… before…”

Khadgar swallowed around him, offering another humming chuckle. Medivh’s other hand moved, and a part of him screamed to stop. He couldn’t. The hand tangled in Khadgar’s hair shifted to cup the back of his head, and he fought to keep from pulling the other mage closer, to keep himself from burying his length deeper than Khadgar could take. “Khadgar.. I’m … I’m s-serious… I.. I _can’t stop_ …” His other hand dropped back to the arm of the chair and returned to its white-knuckled grip. He was trembling with need, the fiery pressure of it burning his nerves raw.

Khadgar pulled back a little, and Medivh almost sobbed with relief.  The sudden swipe of a tongue over his slit and a very insistent _pull_ as his head was pressed against the roof of Khadgar’s mouth was _not_ what he expected. Medivh arched and his toes curled into the rug as he fought it. “You have no idea what  you’re _doing_ to me,” he hissed in a rush.

A smirk was the only reply as the pressure intensified, and the tip of Khadgar’s tongue pressed against the slit, then swiped across it again. Medivh wanted to scream. His body had other ideas. “D-don’t do that,” he insisted. “I can’t… oh, Khadgar I can’t… I can’t, _I can’t—“_

Khadgar moaned and Medivh cried out, unable to stop himself from coming, and coming _hard_. Khadgar’s throat worked quickly, and he shivered as he barely managed to keep it contained, and continued rubbing lightly with his thumb as he softly continued to suckle until he was certain there was nothing left, and drew away with a parting kiss.

Medivh was in shock, panting and trembling as his hand fell away from the back of Khadgar’s head, his eyes blankly staring at the ceiling. Khadgar watched him as he sank back down onto his heels, resting his head against Medivh’s thigh again.

Medivh sighed, deeply, finally lifting his head from where it had fallen back, and he looked down, completely unconvinced at the innocent look Khadgar was giving him.  He leaned forward, his hand lifting to run through Khadgar’s hair again, shaking still. “You just did that,” he said, intelligently.

Khadgar laughed, softly, his eyes dancing with amusement and affection. “And well, if your reactions were any indication.”

Medivh snorted softly, unable to laugh. “One would think you’d done that before.”

Khadgar blushed and shook his head. “No, but I wouldn’t mind trying it a few more times. Just for practice of course.”

Medivh tugged at his hair, his other hand reaching down. “Come up here,” he said softly. Khadgar winced slightly as he got to his feet and Medivh pulled him down into the chair with him. “You are full of surprises, Young Trust,” he murmured, kissing Khadgar affectionately, without heat this time.

Khadgar couldn’t help the laugh that followed the kiss as he settled himself half on, half to the side of his former master, trying to settle without damaging either of them. It didn’t work.  Medivh snorted again. “You’re much larger now than you once were,” he lamented, shifting so Khadgar could get to his feet again. “I think it’s time you were back in bed.”

“Only if you come with me,” Khadgar pouted, his eyes still laughing. Medivh rolled his eyes and got to his feet, draping his towel over his arm, and stalking back over to the bed.  He draped the towel on the bed, then lifted an eyebrow at Khadgar, who took the not-so-subtle hint and settled back on the bed without comment.

Medivh followed suit and pulled Khadgar against him, tugging the towel out from around the younger mage. “One would think you’re a lot younger,” he commented, brushing a finger over the ridge in the fabric before he pulled it away entirely.

He paused, eying the line that slid under the towel. It was curving like a vine, heading for Khadgar’s groin. A second tendril was heading in the direction of his hip.  He suppressed a groan as Khadgar answered him. “And one would think you’re at least my age or younger, considering the way you’ve been keeping up with me.”

“Years of pent up desire can do that, yes,” Medivh murmured, one hand lifting and absently tracing the larger line.

Khadgar looked down, then gasped. “That.. that wasn’t there… earlier.  Was it?”

Medivh’s hand stilled, and he looked up in surprise. “It wasn’t?” he asked sharply.

Khadgar shook his head, slowly. Medivh stared at the line, then touched his finger to the end of it. Khadgar held still as they waited, but the line did not move.

“It’s only been.. what.. a few hours since I woke up?” Khadgar whispered, his voice shaking a little.

“It must have spread while you were asleep,” Medivh sighed.  He looked up and into Khadgar’s eyes, then shifted up so he could kiss him. “As long as it isn’t moving now. We’ll keep an eye on it.”

Khadgar nodded, sighing uncomfortably.  The mood between them was broken. “Medivh, I’m… I’m afraid.”

Medivh gathered Khadgar close, rubbing a soothing pattern against his back. “It will be all right.” He hated the lie for what it was. He silently cursed his own name even as he cursed Khadgar’s as the younger mage lay his head against his shoulder. “You’re not in any pain?”

Khadgar shook his head. “No,” he murmured. He was still and quiet for a moment, then lifted his arm from where it draped over Medivh, and reached up to brush against his cheek. “I’m.. sorry.”

“For?”

“I.. we.. had plans.”

Medivh turned to brush his lips against Khadgar’s temple. “And what makes you think we don’t now?”

Khadgar lifted an eyebrow. “I kind of. Well.”

Medivh laughed, softly. “And you think I’d be in no mood after what you just did to me over there?” He could feel the warmth of the blush without having to look down to see the color creeping across Khadgar’s cheeks. “Did you enjoy yourself at least?”

Khadgar twitched slightly, his arm dropping to curl around Medivh again. “Perhaps,” he said softly.

“Perhaps?”

“How could I not when you… said the things you did?” Khadgar looked up, his eyebrow still slightly elevated. “Do you have _any_  idea what that did to me?” He shifted, draping one of his legs over Medivh’s.

Medivh feigned innocence. “Why… no. Not at all!” He leaned to whisper directly against the shell of Khadgar’s ear. “Why don’t you tell me?” He smiled as he heard the hitch in Khadgar’s breathing, and was relieved. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his lover wanting.

“Well,” Khadgar began, his voice low, “most of it was you begging me to stop.” He lifted himself up and turned to look down at Medivh. “What would you have done if I _had_?”

Medivh stared at him for a moment, then shivered. “I probably would have done a few things that you never would have forgiven me for.”

Khadgar leaned down and murmured against his ear. “Like tangling a hand in my hair and taking what you wanted..?” Medivh shuddered and opened his mouth to speak. Khadgar cut him off with a heated kiss. “And once you were doing _that_ , would you still have been begging me to stop?”

“If I thought for a moment that I would hurt you yes,” Medivh gasped out. “I was scared I would.”

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure,” Khadgar admitted, running a fingertip down Medivh’s chest absently. “But if you thought for a moment I would stop when I knew you were so close…” He shuddered, leaning down to brush a kiss to Medivh’s shoulder. “Not when I could feel you tensing the way you were. Not when I could feel your pulse under my tongue. Not with the way you were fighting my hands on your hips. And certainly not when you told me you couldn’t… stop.”

Medivh shivered, making a wordless noise of longing, and pulled Khadgar against him, kissing him hard enough to bruise. “I couldn’t,” he murmured in a break before diving back in again. “I couldn’t stop. I was past the point of reason, past the point where I could think and I couldn’t stop you if I wanted to and oh _Light_ you have no idea what you _do_ to me.”

Khadgar’s hand slid down Medivh’s stomach, fingertips trailing along the skin.  “Oh, I think I have at least an idea,” he murmured as his fingertips trailed down further.  Medivh shuddered as those fingers found rather solid and obvious evidence. “This doesn’t lie,” he whispered.

Medivh shivered again. “No,” he whispered. His hands slid down to Khadgar’s rear and squeezed gently, grinning at the gasp he got in return. “It doesn’t lie.”

Heat flared in Khadgar’s eyes as his hand trailed further down to trace a line further down and brush against the sensitive skin of Medivh’s perineum, and pressed down gently. Medivh’s legs parted as he gasped in surprise. Khadgar’s hand slid lower, teasing feather touches against the tight ring of muscle. “Medivh,” he said softly. “Do you really want this?”

Medivh nodded, slowly. “From you,” he replied softly. “And no other.” One hand released Khadgar’s rear and lifted to his cheek, his thumb resting across his cheekbone. “No matter the other lovers I’d had when I was young, Khadgar, I only ever wanted the one I was meant to spend my life with to have that kind of honor.”

Khadgar swallowed, audibly, unable to speak. He leaned down and brushed his lips against Medivh’s, though it only remained sweet for a heartbeat before it became heated. He slid himself between Medivh’s thighs and nudged them apart, his fingertips dancing across the skin between them as he opened his mouth, inviting.

Medivh took the invitation, both hands lifting to tangle in the still slightly damp strands of silver hair at the back of Khadgar’s head, his breath sharp as he pulled back enough to breathe. He was nervous now, as he’d never been. He felt like the past few hours hadn’t happened. He felt… vulnerable as he looked up at Khadgar, seeing a similar look in his blue eyes. His own eyes dropped partially closed. “Khadgar,” he murmured. “My Trust. I… I love you so much.” As he spoke, his hand moved to grope along the bedside table and picked up the jar, the lid falling from it as he nudged Khadgar’s forearm with it. “Claim me,” he whispered. “Please.”

Khadgar took the jar with shaking fingers, his eyes searching Medivh’s. “Are you sure?”

Medivh gave Khadgar a _look_. “I have been sure for a _very_ long time.” Khadgar hesitated for a moment, then leaned back on his heels and brushed Medivh’s cheek. His hands shaking, he shifted the jar to his left hand and dipped his fingers into it, then stared at them like he had no idea what he was actually doing. “It’s all right,” Medivh breathed. “Just take it slow.”

His hand still shaking a little, Khadgar brushed his fingers back along Medivh’s cleft, and nerves melted away as the older mage shifted his legs further apart. He became intent on his task, his brows furrowing just a little as he concentrated on spreading the salve, blushing a little as he watched, and felt, it melt against Medivh’s skin. He scooped a second application and pressed it directly against the tight muscle of Medivh’s entrance, circling the muscle with his finger for a moment before pressing against it, gently, but insistently.

Medivh gasped and shifted again, and the muscle spasmed, allowing Khadgar’s fingertip to slide past it. Khadgar sucked in a swift breath and nearly pulled his hand back, but instead slid the finger in further. He kept his eyes on his former master as he kept the motion steady, sliding in until it was past the second knuckle, blushing darkly. “Medivh…?” he whispered.

“You’re doing fine,” Medivh replied, his voice quiet, but slightly strained. His hands twitched at his sides as the digit retreated slowly, then slid back in. “Yes..” Medivh hissed softly.

Khadgar took a deep breath and carefully worked a second finger in, and Medivh moaned softly. Convinced he was doing something right, and thinking back to how both Kalec and Medivh had worked on him, he began tugging gently at the muscle, spreading his fingers apart. He added a third once it began to loosen. He shifted on his knees restlessly, and leaned forward as he worked Medivh open to kiss him again.  “Am I—“

“No, you’re not hurting me… I’m… I’m fine,” Medivh murmured. “Well, not fine,” he breathed. “Impatient,” he clarified. “I want – no – need _you_ … not this…”

Had Khadgar not been kneeling, he would have been, as his legs felt weak and he was made aware, very suddenly, of his own arousal. “Medivh… I… are you—“

“I’m sure. I’m ready – whatever you were going to ask, _yes._ ”

Khadgar drew his hand away and Medivh’s hips lifted to chase the touch. Another delve into the jar, and Khadgar felt it taken from his hand and heard it click onto the table again as he began stroking himself, hissing as the salve warmed and melted.  One hand on Medivh’s hip, the other guiding, he nudged against Medivh, and pushed.

He winced when he slid and missed, and blushed as he tried again, this time working past the muscle. “Oh _Light_ …” he breathed, almost afraid to move further. A deep breath and he managed it, and his hand moved to press against the bed at Medivh’s side. “So… so t-tight… How could you… s-stand…”

“Matrices,” Medivh murmured, almost absently, afraid to move.  He longed to, to shift his hips up into that intrusion, to pull Khadgar into him. He swallowed, then tilted his hips to do so.

Khadgar gasped, and instinct took over. He sank as far as their bodies would allow, and he froze. “Medivh… I.. this is so.. so..”

“Overwhelming,” Medivh agreed, his breathing uneven. “So… unbelievable,” he murmured. “Be still,” he warned, then shifted himself so his legs slid around Khadgar’s waist, pulling Khadgar in completely.

“Oh Light – I – I… D-don’t move or.. or…” Khadgar growled, his hands fisting in the fabric under his hands.

“T-take your time,” Medivh hissed. “I don’t know how you ever managed not to… just from… Light you feel … so…”

Khadgar shifted restlessly, then pulled his hips back, agonizingly slowly.  The sparks along his nerves burned like fire, and he couldn’t hide behind the influence of the dust this time. He began to move in slow, shallow thrusts as Medivh trembled beneath him. He looked up and found darkened emerald eyes watching him. His hips sped up a little of their own accord, and his thighs spread so he had more space and more balance as he moved. He wasn’t sure how long he could last like this.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Medivh breathed. “Concentrate.”

And Khadgar did, and as awkwardness fell away, his body took over, instinct and desire driving him. “Medivh – Oh… I’m not … S-so…”

“That’s it,” Medivh encouraged. “Just li—“ Khadgar shifted and Medivh cried out sharply. Before Khadgar could stop, Medivh spoke again. “That – do that again…” Khadgar tilted his head slightly, and did that again. Medivh arched into it. “Oh _Light_ yes…”

Khadgar moaned at the words more than the sensations as he sped up, his body shrieking for release. “Medivh – I can’t.. I’m.. I can’t…”

“C-concentrate,” Medivh encouraged, “Just don’t stop. I promised you I would take orders from you once you were the one where you are… concentrate on that.”

“I can’t,” Khadgar groaned. “It’s too …intense for me to think much.”

“You’re thinking now,” Medivh pointed out, his hips tilting a little as he arched.

Khadgar pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and bit down sharply, and he managed to regain some of his sanity back. He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them again, they were glowing, but behind the glow they were darkened and heated. They raked down Medivh’s body and one hand lifted from the sheets to brush against his cock. “I had wanted to watch you,” he hissed. “I wanted to watch you come apart.”  He paused, his hips speeding up again. “I wanted to torment you as you had me,” he breathed. His hand curled and he began stroking him, his hand firm and leaving no room for argument. “It’s all I can do to hold on.  A-all I can do not t-to … not to…”

One of Medivh’s hands curled around the back of Khadgar’s and guided him as he began to falter. “Don’t stop,” he murmured. “Slow down if you must but don’t stop.”

“I c-can’t,” Khadgar wailed, his back arching and his body tensing. “Medivh I can’t – I can’t st-stop! I’m going to—“

“Look at me,” Medivh moaned, “I’m close. I’m close, just.. h-hold on.”

Khadgar did look, and it didn’t help. His hand tightened slightly and sped up. “Medivh.. Medivh – please I’m—“

“Not yet,” Medivh begged, his free hand twisting in the bedding beneath his hand. “Oh please, just a little… f-further…”

Khadgar bit his lip again, this time drawing blood.  His eyes lifted to Medivh’s again, and saw the telltale glow behind them. He forced himself to slow down as he drew a breath. “Finish it then,” he breathed, sliding his hand back a little so Medivh was in more control. “Look at me,” he demanded, and the darkened emerald eyes focused on his. “Come for me, Medivh… Come apart under me. Don’t stop, don’t slow down, don’t …d-don’t… Oh Light no.. no .. Medivh… _Medivh please!_ ”

Medivh arched, sharply, his body pulling as tense as a bow, his legs trembling and the hand between them faltering. Without thinking, Khadgar slid his hand back into place and took control of it back as his movement became more insistent. Medivh’s hand trembled as it closed on his. “Yes…” he hissed. “Yes… Oh, Light… Yes… Khadgar, I’m… I’m… _K-Khadgar_!” His voice rose as he stilled, Khadgar’s name a desperate cry as the gold orb above them burst into motes and a violent wind swept through the room, ruffling the curtains against the window and the tapestries on the walls.

Khadgar gave a wordless moan as he fought not to follow immediately after, stilling himself as his hand continued to move, working Medivh through his release and the shuddering that followed.  Medivh’s eyes, still glowing, lowered to meet Khadgar’s again, the light of their eyes the only light other than the moonlight tinged an eerie green as it filtered in through the window. “You held,” Medivh breathed, shocked. “You… you shouldn’t—“

Khadgar drew his hand away, pressing it against the towel under them. “You said earlier you wanted to feel me.” He bent to press a kiss against Medivh’s lips, then began to move again, speeding quickly. “I c-couldn’t d-deny you that.”

Medivh’s arms lifted and pulled Khadgar down closer. “Then don’t hold back,” he murmured. “Hold _nothing_ back. Make me _feel_ you. _Claim. Me_.”

Khadgar’s hands moved to Medivh’s hips and dug into them as he sped up a fraction more, his thrusts uneven and frantic. He could feel the sparks along his nerves, the heat coiling between his legs. “Medivh,” he murmured, his eyes holding the older mage’s. He narrowed them as he tensed, fighting to keep eye contact. “Medivh,” he repeated, more insistently, warningly.

“Come on,” Medivh murmured. “You’re right there…”

Khadgar arched, his hands digging into Medivh’s hips as he moaned, his body shuddering as his hips faltered. “Light help me,” he whispered. “Medivh.. Oh, Medivh… _Medivh_!” He was only a hair shy of screaming, his body pulling tight as he drove forward one last time, spending himself as the window crackled and shattered, and something else across the room exploded.

Medivh gasped, his eyes wide as Khadgar swayed, his eyes still glowing, and things still happening around them as the younger mage trembled.  A tapestry slipped from the wall, its metal bar clanging loudly as it bounced off the wardrobe. A small globe on one of the bookcases burst into a shower of blue sparks, and several books again fell from the case opposite.

Khadgar collapsed, and as Khadgar had done for Medivh earlier, Medivh’s hands shot up and caught him, gently lowering him as Khadgar slid free, and groping for the towel to clean them both up.  Once the towels were on top of the laundry basket, Medivh resettled in bed and focused on repairing the shattered window. The rest could wait.

He lay back down and pulled Khadgar into his arms again. Khadgar sighed, finally regaining control of his breathing, and looked up at Medivh. “Medivh – did—”

“Shh,” Medivh murmured, touching a finger to his lips. “You didn’t hurt me. That… was the single most incredible experience I’ve ever had.” Khadgar relaxed, blue eyes closing. “Oh Khadgar, I am so sorry I pushed you away all those years ago…”

“You had to,” Khadgar murmured, laying his head on Medivh’s shoulder. “I … I didn’t understand then. I do now.” He yawned, and blushed as he turned his head to bury his face against Medivh’s neck.

Medivh rubbed his back and crooked his finger, calling the blankets up and over them, then reached up to dismiss the sound wards. “Rest, my Trust. It’s been a long night.”

Khadgar murmured something unintelligible, his leg draping over Medivh’s, his arm curling around his chest, and he cuddled close.

Medivh lay awake for a while longer, stroking Khadgar’s hair, his mind working over how to stop the lines that had appeared just that night. They were running out of time, and quickly.

And yet, Medivh couldn’t find it in his heart to tell Khadgar this. Let him believe there was hope still, for perhaps there was. He looked around the room, at the shards of the orb on the bookcase, the books strewn to the floor, the tapestry by the wardrobe.  The light was violet when it had swept through; which meant Khadgar could still channel the Arcane. Beings touched by Fel could not.

_But you did, Medivh. The entire time…_

Medivh closed his eyes. For the first time in his life, he begged the Light for aid, guidance. Something. Anything. He could not lose Khadgar. Not now…


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who stayed with me as I wrote this, thank you.  
> To those who read this, thank you for sticking with me.  
> (Deadly_Nighshae reminded me to put a tissue warning on this chapter... so consider this your warning - apparently you'll want tissues or a handkerchief nearby...)

Morning found them tangled together as they had fallen asleep.  Sunlight crept across the bed and into Medivh’s eyes, and he muttered something, lifting his hand from where it was curled around Khadgar’s back.  From the angle of the sun, it was at least midmorning.

“Med?” Khadgar murmured sleepily.

“It’s late… I wonder why no one woke us…” Medivh replied softly.

Khadgar shrugged, and carefully disentangled himself from Medivh.

“Feh,” Medivh muttered, sitting up. “Are you hurting?”

“No,” Khadgar said softly. “Not yet.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way.” Medivh reached for the vial on the bedside table, and turned to Khadgar to offer it to him. And nearly dropped it. “No,” he breathed. “No…” He shook his head, dropping the vial onto the bedding and reaching his hand up to seize Khadgar’s chin.

“Medivh, what is it?” Khadgar reached down for the vial and caught an odd sight out of the corner of his eye.

There were new lines, spreading like spiderweb across his arm. “Medivh,” he gasped, his voice shaking. “Wh.. what does this.”

“Shh.. Take that – the whole thing. I’m going to get Priestess Briyanna.” Medivh slid out of bed, reaching for his robe from the foot of the bed, shrugging himself into the deep vermillion fabric as he hunted for his pants and the low boots he wore indoors.

Secrecy be damned.

He was still settling his feet into the boots as he reached the door and pulled it open. As soon as he was out of sight of the bedroom, he ran.

Khadgar watched him go, frowning.  He stood up, and headed for the bathing room once he had taken the rest of the dust in the vial and dealt with the nosebleed.  Relieved and washed up a bit, he paused to look into the mirror.

His eyes turned silver with fear as he saw the lines across his body. The one that had been aiming for his heart had not moved, but one of the others apparently had reached their destination. Thin black lins were spreading across his stomach, down his abdomen and along his arms and legs.

Khadgar screamed.

Their time had run out.

 

Briyanna closed the bedroom door and leaned against it, her face grey with exhaustion.  She crossed into the sitting room, leaning on the desk, walls, small tables and other furniture as she moved, then collapsed into the armchair that was free.

Modera, Kalec and Medivh stared at her. No one spoke, letting her recover. Medivh stood up and knelt at her side, his hand on hers, offering his own strength to her.  She turned her hand and curled her fingers around his hand.

And then slowly shook her head. “I tried,” she whispered into the silence. “Light _help_ me I _tried_.” Her free hand lifted to her face as she shook with silent sobs. “I can’t stop them. The dust isn’t stopping them.” Her voice was still barely a whisper, but felt like shouting in the silence. She began to shake all over from her weariness. “I tried everything. _We_ tried everything.”

“How much time do we have, High Priest?” Modera asked softly.

Briyanna shrugged. “Hours?” She shook her head. “No more than that… Unless there is some kind of delayed reaction and…” she shrugged again. “I would not count on it.”

Modera swore, and Kalec put an arm around her. “We need to convene the Council,” Kalec murmured. “Briyanna, will you join us?”

Briyanna nodded and got to her feet with Medivh’s aid.

“Do you need—“ Medivh began.

“No. You stay here with him,” Kalec replied. “ _He_ needs you,” he continued quietly. “More now than ever.” He helped Modera to her feet and she swore again.

“Why?” She asked. “Why would he _do_ this?”

“A Guardian does what he must,” Medivh said quietly. “No matter the cost to himself.”

Modera shook her head, reaching up to rub her eyes, unable to find an answer.  She and Kalec left.

Briyanna turned to Medivh. “I… I am deeply sorry, Magus. I swear to you I did everything I could. Had I tried to do more—“

“You would have burned yourself out, and Azeroth needs you,” Medivh murmured, squeezing her hand. “Thank  you, for all you’ve done.”

She offered him a nod, then slid her hand from his and brushed his cheek. “Go. He… does not look good, so … be aware. He has had another dose, so he will feel no pain. Let him near no mirrors.”

Medivh nodded, and locked the door behind her as she left, and headed for the bedroom.  He steeled himself, then opened the door.

The few hours since the scream was heard and Medivh and Briyanna had returned had not been kind. Black and green lines spread across Khadgar’s skin, and he was pale against them. His arms were lined to his wrists, and two had curled up and were beginning to edge upwards around his throat. His eyes were closed, and his cheeks were shining with tears.

Medivh closed the door and crossed the room, pulling off his robe as he moved, and draped it across the foot of the bed. He pulled the blankets back, and winced. The line across his chest had found its mark, and the lines that spread from it followed vein and random direction both. The one that crept down his stomach had found the joint between groin and torso, spreading another spider’s web across and down his legs.

 _I’ve killed him. I never should have let last night happen. We might have had more time to find a way…_ Guilt froze his heart, and for a moment, he thought of just moving the blanket back and walking away, returning to Karazhan and letting the world forget him.

“Medivh.” Khadgar’s head turned, and the eyes opened. Medivh bit his lip, trying not to sob at the calm clarity in the pale blue.  A lined hand lifted, and the eyes begged.

Medivh settled on the bed, still wearing his loose pants. He gathered Khadgar against him and sighed.

Khadgar curled into Medivh’s chest, Medivh’s hand stroking Khadgar’s hair. Khadgar lifted his head from Medivh’s shoulder, reaching a hand up. Medivh caught it in his free hand and the fingers entwine with it, ignoring the black and green lines now twisting around the fingers.

“Medivh?”

“Hm? What is it, Young Trust?”

Khadgar shifted so he could look up at the Magus. “What does it feel like?” he asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

Medivh looked down, meeting the nearly-silver eyes that gazed up at him in entreaty. “What?”

“Dying. What does it feel like? Does it hurt?”

“Shh.. you shouldn’t be thinking like that.  There’s—“

“No hope, Medivh. I already know I don’t have much longer,” Khadgar murmured. “Please. Tell me.”

Medivh closed his eyes, briefly, gathering his thoughts. “It’s different for everyone, Khadgar,” he replied softly. “For some, it is a painful battle. For others, they quietly sleep, and never know they are gone until they seek the Light.” He touched his lips to Khadgar’s forehead. “For me, it hurt. But there was a profound feeling of freedom, as though the weight I had been carrying for so long was suddenly lifted, and I felt… freedom, for the first time in my life. The pain in your eyes – wounded me. I didn’t want to leave you like I did – not like that. Not knowing that you would bear the burdens I had, and all of the ones I had created.” He sighed. “But I was free, at long last, and it overrode… everything else.”

Khadgar was quiet for a long moment. “I’m afraid,” he said, simply. The raw emotion in the simple words cut into Medivh’s heart.

“I know, Khadgar, I know.” He dipped his head to brush his lips over Khadgar’s lined ones, the lines still creeping, slowly, along his cheeks. “I would give anything to make this easier on you. I would give anything to take this from you.”

The tear slid from an emerald eye unchecked and unheeded, splashing against one of the lines on Khadgar’s cheek and mingling with the tears that had been falling silently for the past quarter hour.

“Live in my stead,” Khadgar began.

“No. I cannot. I cannot ever hope to be what you have become,” Medivh sobbed. “Do not ask this of me.”

“Live for your own, then,” Khadgar insisted. “P-promise me you won’t do something … like I did.”

“Every Guardian makes sacrifices.”

They were quiet for a time.

“Medivh, I’m sorry.”

“Shh. Don’t. There is nothing to be sorry for.” Medivh lifted their hands and brushed tears from beneath Khadgar’s eyes.

“I’ve failed you. I’ve failed Azeroth,” Khadgar insisted, his voice shaking.

“You have done no such thing. The last reports were that the tide was turning, the Tomb _will_ fall, and we will press on.” Medivh shifted so he could look at Khadgar, trying to ignore the spread of three more lines twisting like ivy tendrils around his throat and upwards along his cheeks to web with the ones already there. “Promise me something, Khadgar.”

“Anything.”

“You’ll be there, waiting.”

“Of course.” Khadgar’s voice had faded to a bare breath of sound. Medivh pulled him close again. “I’m so afraid…” he admitted, shivering.

Medivh kissed his temple, softly. “It will be all right, Young Trust. It will be all right.”

“Even now you call me that,” Khadgar whispered, fondly.

“You will always – always be my Young Trust, Khadgar. Always,” Medivh murmured quietly.

Blue eyes met green, and for a moment, Khadgar smiled. “Medivh, I… I l-lo…”

As Khadgar had spoken, his bright eyes had dulled to a blue-grey, the color of storm-filled sunset, the lids closing over them before he could finish.

Medivh felt the fingers go slack in his, and he didn’t even have the strength to weep as he pulled the limp body against his, ignoring the tears that continued to fall. A chill breeze fluttered through the open window, and Medivh turned to look up at the curtains as they fluttered. He thought he heard a bell tolling somewhere, as though it came from deep within Dalaran.

Light caused him to look down again. Violet fire spread along the lines, burning away the black and green, and Khadgar’s body was bathed in the light of it for a moment, and then as though he had never been there, faded away, drawn into a vortex at the point where his heart had lay.  Something in Medivh broke, and he uttered a hoarse, broken cry, as his arms fell to the bed where Khadgar had been, folding in as though to try to capture what might have been left. But there was nothing, not even an imprint on the bedding, a curve to the blanket that covered him moments before. He let his arms drop.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right. This wasn’t how mages were meant to die. This wasn’t how _Khadgar_ was meant to die.  His hand slid a little, and his fingers brushed something left on the sheets. Cautiously, rubbing his eyes with the back of his other hand, he scooped the small item into his palm and pulled it above the blankets.

He stared at the glowing sapphire for a long moment watching it try to pulse, but it only managed a few stuttering flickers before becoming just a brilliant, dormant, gem.  Medivh closed his hand around it and held it to his heart. It still felt warm to the touch.

He slid out of the bed, set the sapphire on the bedside table, and pulled his scarlet and ebony robe from the wardrobe, pulling it on. He gathered his raven-feathered cloak around his shoulders as he slid his feet back into his boots, but let the hood fall free.  He ran his fingers through his dark hair, squared his shoulders, and picked the gem up again.  With his other hand, he picked up Atiesh from where it still rested against the wardrobe, its familiar weight a comfort in some way.

He lifted his head and squared his shoulders, then left the room.

Azeroth needed a Guardian, but he would have to do in the proper Guardian’s stead.

The news would spread quickly, and there would be panic. He had to do what he could to stem the panic and protect that which he had been tasked to protect once before.

And then, Legion would _pay_.

Not for the death of a Guardian, but for crushing one of the things he had a chance to make right. No matter what it took, he would live on for the only person he ever truly loved.

But before he did that, he had a requisition to make, so he could keep Khadgar’s final gift close to his heart.

And together, they would take the Legion down once and for all – or Medivh would die trying.

 

~*~*~

_Years later…_

Medivh frowned at the book in his hands, trying to make sense of the words before finally sighing and giving up. He rubbed his tired eyes and closed the book and set it on the desk. His hand drifted to his throat, where a pendant lay against it; a silver raven with a brilliant sapphire, glowing faintly and warmly, making up most of its body and two chips of rare blue Azerothian diamond almost the exact color of Khadgar’s eyes glittering in its eye sockets.

He smiled sadly, but knew that he wasn’t alone, not really. He would never be alone, now.  It was as though Khadgar had put the last of what he was into his own gem of health and presented it as a parting gift to Medivh.

Perhaps he had.


End file.
